Can't Live Without You
by Midnight3
Summary: Hermione and Draco are sent on a mysterious mission to Tom's time. Draco and Hermione are forced to put their differences aside to face the Slytherin Prince,Tom. A new prophecy will be revealed. Nothing is what it seems as their lives are put in danger.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: **__This story is based on most of the characters from Harry Potter. I'm a struggling university student surviving on potatoes(k perhaps not potatoes…) and will make no money off of this fanfic. _

**Note: re-edited version **

_**Can't Live Without You**_

_**Chapter 1**_

After a long sultry summer, the Golden trio was regrettably forced to split for the first time since their arrival at Hogwarts. Harry's visit to the Burrow had been cut far too short due to his desolate search into Voldemort's past. Reminding themselves of the gravity of the situation, more tears were shed at this goodbye than any other. Letters could not be sent between them since it would only serve to endanger Harry and his mission. Despite the abundance of cherished moments that would be lost as a result of their friend not being present, they understood his mission was far more significant than education.

When Hermione and Ron returned to Hogwarts, many students failed to notice the slight inconsistency in the Golden Trio. The number of students had greatly deteriorated after Dumbledore's death. The majority of students left refused to speak and merely remembered the jovial times in the same room. Hermione's eyes sparkled with tears in the gloomy light as she focused on the vacant head chair at the staff's table, which McGonagall had strongly refused in spite of her new position as Headmistress.

"How are we ever going to get through this war, Ron?" Hermione said dejectedly, tears rolling down her pale cheeks.

A warm hand slipped into hers and stroked it comfortingly. "We will. We have Harry," Ron said, placing his arm around her.

"So many deaths," she said softly, studying the empty spaces among the students like an ocean threatening to drown them. Countless parents had not sought their children's return. Nor did it help students, such as Dean, if their mothers had already aspired to remove them in previous years before Voldemort returned.

Times would only get worse.

What was Hogwarts without Dumbledore's light to guide them through the

darkness?

"We have each other," Ron said timidly, knowing that she missed everyone including the students who had been killed recently. There could be no funeral in most cases. It was perilous to wander around alone for lengthy periods of time. She smiled back at Ron encouragingly as they both approached the Gryffindor table.

"HEY!" Neville hollered, in high spirits to see them, "Glad to be back in school, aren't you?"

They both nodded uncertainly while Ginny joined the group. McGonagall appeared next to them. "It's good to see you all back," she said with a genuine smile. "Miss. Granger, I need to see you in my office immediately. In fact, perhaps it would be best if Mr. Weasley joined."

As they walked towards McGonagall's new office, Ron joked weakly, "Blimey Hermione! Already broken some rules before me?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, saying "She'll probably tell me about the Head Girl's room." Glancing down at the badge shining proudly on her robes, it was the only thing that had made her smile in the days leading up to their return to Hogwarts besides seeing her friends.

When they reached, McGonagall was already waiting at the bottom of the stairs to invite them in. They walked swiftly into her office, expecting a tremendous change from Dumbledore's room but found it quite identical except for the desk.

"Yes," McGonagall said, "As you've probably noticed, it was my sincere wishes to maintain the room's décor." Ron and Hermione both seated themselves in front of McGonagall's desk.

"Now I understand that it was difficult for you two to be separated from Mr. Potter-," McGonagall started.

"_Harry??!? _Did something happen?" Hermione asked in a trembling voice. It had been nearly a week since they had last seen him.

"No, Miss. Granger, I assure you that it is most certainly not about Mr. Potter," McGonagall reassured Hermione, flipping through the papers on her desk for an envelope which she kept firmly in her hands. "Miss. Granger when I was sorting Dumbledore's papers, I found an item of great importance to you."

"_Me?_" Hermione said, utterly confused.

McGonagall nodded her head, "It seems that Dumbledore had planned your seventh year project to be a significant piece in the puzzle to destroying the Dark Lord."

"WHAT?" Ron erupted beside her, standing up. "That's impossible!" He knew that Harry was the only possible person who could kill the Dark Lord, according to the prophecy.

"It seems that Dumbledore thought that Hermione would be essential in solving the problem at its roots. Miss. Granger, did he speak to you about any of this?" McGonagall asked Hermione directly.

Solving the problem at its roots? She looked at McGonagall, perplexed. Her arm gently supported her head as she reflected on the headmistress' words. Finally, she shook her head.

"He intended for you to return to the past," McGonagall simply said, getting the reaction she expected from both Ron and Hermione. Ron's jaw dropped and he looked at McGonagall as if she was a mad patient in line for St. Mungo.

"Are you bloody out of your mind?!" Ron said, his mouth still open.

Hermione had accepted the news with much more grace but the same thoughts were passing through her mind as she acknowledged the seriousness on McGonagall's face.

"He left the letter on his desk, instructing me to send you and another student to the past to put an end to Lord Voldemort, or shall I say Tom Riddle. He explained that there are some missing pieces to the puzzle which you might be able to fill," McGonagall said quietly.

'Pieces?' Hermione wondered at this cryptic message.

"Last wish? How was he able to write the letter if-," Ron questioned McGonagall.

"He probably wrote it before leaving with Mr. Potter in case anything happened," McGonagall informed them both, sliding down into her chair as though the idea of Dumbledore's last moments before his abrupt death were more frightening than his actual death.

"How can I go back in time? Weren't all the time turners destroyed?" Hermione said, finding the courage to speaking up.

"It seems that Dumbledore had kept a time turner for his own personal purposes," McGonagall said, removing a package wrapped in dark purple velvet from a drawer. "It works perfectly, but it is not registered under the Ministry. Obviously, the Ministry, as Mr. Potter has learned and as have I, is not the most reliant source at the time. As a result, I expect that no words from this conversation will be spread after this meeting has ended." McGonagall looked directly at Ron to demonstrate the seriousness of her final words. Both students nodded quickly, looking at the time turner that McGonagall had unwrapped in her office.

"Miss Granger, as a member of the Order of the Phoenix, do you wish to undertake this mission and complete the rest of your final year in another time period," McGonagall said, neatly placing her hands on the desk and staring at Hermione sharply.

'This means I'd have to desert all my friends,' Hermione thought miserably. She would be completely alone and the idea off destroying Voldemort on her own was horrendous enough. _Except_ nothing was said about her _killing_ Voldemort…

She nodded slowly, irresolute of how she would be able to accomplish this mission. _Why_ did Dumbledore pick _her_? _Why_ not Harry? She paused and looked up at her former professor. Harry would remain in the future while she was carrying out the task… but what was she supposed to do? She would be blind and stumbling through the abyss of Tom Riddle's realm without any leadership.

There was hope…

She had also said that Hermione was not the only student chosen. But why? It didn't make any sense to her. "Professor-I mean Headmistress, who is the other student that will be coming?"

At that moment, a door on the right side of the room creaked open to expose a dark figure. There was some muttering and a black hooded figure swaggered into the room with Professor Binns and Professor Slughorn.

'Oh great,' Hermione thought sarcastically to herself, studying the hooded figure with a dismayed look, 'Hermione's adventure to the past with a Death Eater. Such pleasant company.'

"Trust me Granger you're not that agreeable company either," the person under the black hooded cloak retorted, as if reading her mind.

She had heard that voice before… _but where_? Obviously, Ron was thinking the same because he appeared deep in concentration. Before both of them could uncover a logical answer, the figure removed his hood and revealed none other than…..Draco Malfoy.

"YOU! YOU FILTHY BASTARD! YOU KILLED HIM!" Ron yelled, leaping off his seat and nearly strangling Malfoy. The professors yanked Ron off Malfoy and Draco benefited from the time to walk around the other people and approached Hermione.

"STAY AWAY FROM HER! I'LL KILL YOU IF YOU LAY A FINGER ON HER. I SWEAR I WILL," Ron kept screaming as he was retained by the professors with magic.

Malfoy barely looked back at Ron and ignored his words. Hermione had barely recognized Malfoy from the last time she had seen him a couple months ago. He was a few inches taller, probably around 6'4 and his sleek blonde hair was messy like several days in their sixth year. He had developed a tan recently, which greatly enhanced his overall image. There was a mysterious glimmer in his eyes as though locked to anyone attempting to peer into his soul. His bluish grey eyes reminded her of stormy skies with sharp silver flecks. Malfoy's appearance seemed more like a model ripped out from a magazine or a celebrity from a movie. The only flaw was the constant pompous expression on his face that only diminished his look by very little.

She slapped her head mentally over and over again. He's a Death Eater and he is responsible for Dumbledore's death. Didn't Harry say that Snape was forced to kill Dumbledore since Draco couldn't do it? Didn't Harry tell her how he actually felt sorry for Draco? How he thought that Draco was under a lot of pressure from the Dark Lord since his father was in Azkaban?

Malfoy gave Hermione one of his trademark smirks, and pulled up a seat near her. He casually made himself comfortable in the chair, crossing his legs and staring with an amused expression at Ron. After they managed to calm Ron down, he sat smugly near Hermione and scrutinized Draco, who enjoyed himself by defiantly staring back at Ron.

"Mr. Malfoy is a member of the Order of the Phoenix. That is all you need to know unless he wishes to inform you of his story. There are many from the Dark side who seek him, which only makes Dumbledore's plan more reasonable. When you arrive in 1944, you are not to inform anyone of your real names. Instead, please call yourselves Hermione De Lioncourt and Draco Devereux. I assure that you both understand the significance of the mission and that you will work together to make it a success. Any questions?" McGonagall asked.

"Do you want us to kill him?" Hermione asked, her eyes widening in shock.

"No obviously not, Miss. Granger. If it comes to the point that you must defend yourself, do what you must. However, we don't want you stuck in Azkaban. Dumbledore suggested in his letter that you use whatever knowledge you can gather about Tom," McGonagall explained. She continued to tell them about what they should say for their identities. "Shall we prepare to leave?"

That's it. Now she was convinced that everyone was out of their mind! What were they supposed to find about Voldemort that they already did not know? She could not tell Malfoy about the Horcruxes since it was special information given by Dumbledore. Of course, she knew more about Tom Riddle's past than Malfoy from everything that Harry had told Hermione and Ron. But how would that help her? Why were they in such a rush to leave?

Hermione joined McGonagall who was already leaving her office. She noticed that Malfoy's face had paled slightly after the headmaster's conversation. For a moment, it seemed that there was more to him than a hardcore mantle fostered by the Malfoy pride. As if reading her thoughts, Malfoy glanced at her darkly to challenge the notion. The fear had subsided from his face and she was left speculating if it was only her eyes fooling her.

Ron followed Hermione in silence and examined Malfoy sternly from the corner of his eyes to ensure he was not up to his usual tricks. When they at last reached the Room of Requirements, McGonagall explained, "Miss Granger, I am sure you know how to handle one of these." Hermione nodded as she accepted the time turner. "Five complete cycles for the decade turner should be just right. Use the room to acquire all the necessary items for class. As soon as you get there, go to Professor Dumbledore and present him this letter." She handed Hermione the envelope that she was holding during the meeting. "Remember not to reveal your identities. Miss. Granger, I have given you a pureblood last name because it may be safer around certain students. "

Hermione nodded, holding the letter in her hands. Malfoy entered the room without glancing back, leaving Hermione to say bye to Ron. She hugged him tightly, cherishing their last few seconds. "Tell Harry that I'll miss him!"

"I will, as long as you promise me to be careful," Ron looked at her seriously. "For Riddle _and_ Malfoy, understand? I know you'll be fine. Being smart and all…" She nodded and kissed him on the cheek.

"I'll be fine," she mouthed to him, nodding at her professors and entering the room. Closing the door behind her, she found herself alone with Malfoy.

She approached Malfoy saying "Shall we, then?" He stood as a statue, not bothering to look at her. She wrapped the time turner around them both, ignoring the fact that they had never stood so close to each other. Carefully, she rotated the time turner accordingly only to find herself surrounded by a flash of light that instantly disappeared.

"This is not good," Hermione said apprehensively, staring at the time turner which had shattered into pieces, "We can't get back."

"We have plenty of time to figure that out. Pointless if it did not work, right?" he said miserably, looking around the room to see if anything had changed.

"Only one way to find out," Hermione said determinedly, "Think it's time to pay Professor Dumbledore a visit." She smirked at Draco, surprising herself with the friendly tone she was using towards him. Draco finally looked in front at Hermione. His eyes widened in shock.

"What?" Hermione asked Draco incredulously, wondering if he was already up to his nasty tricks.

""_You've changed_," he stuttered, placing his head closer to Hermione's face, to get a better look.

"That's impossible, you look the same! Why in bloody Merlin's name would I-," she said, glancing over at the mirror on the wall behind Draco. "Holy Merlin!" She removed the time turner and placed it in Draco's hands as she crept over to the mirror and checked herself out. Her body had remained the same with the exception of her hair which had been replaced by a mass of rich black shoulder length curly hair. Her skin was slightly more tanned to give a faint olive tone. Any person who had seen her previously would be able to recognize her but the change in hair color certainly blew her off.

"Aye, Hermione, should have sent you to the past sooner. It's the perfect anti-bushy treatment for your hair," Draco said, checking her out in the mirror's reflection.

"Focus, will you?" she said crossly, but throwing a few glances at the mirror, "We need to visit Dumbledore."

Draco nodded as they quickly went over their identities, in a civil manner. Luckily, they never stumbled upon any students as they made their way to Dumbledore's office. From the Great Hall, they could hear the students piling into the room for the opening ceremonies. Just as they were about to knock on Dumbledore's door, he opened the door to leave for the ceremonies.

"Well what do we have here?" he said in an amused tone, looking from Hermione to Draco.

"Sir, we have been told to give you this letter," Hermione said, handing over the only object they had carried over from their time. He invited them into his office, instantly offered them two butterbeers and a couple of sweet snacks. Laying back in his own chair, he began to read the contents of the letter before hastily standing up, "Please remain here while I speak to Headmaster Dippet."

Both of them sat in the room alone without knowing what to say to break the silence. Finally Draco spoke up, "We'll have to go shopping for clothes and our books."

Hermione nodded in agreement, watching as the door opened and Dumbledore entered alone. "Well Mr. Devereux and Miss. de Lioncourt , welcome to Hogwarts. I assume that you require a few essential items for the school year. You will be assisted during your visit tomorrow to Hogesmeade to purchase whatever is needed. If there is anything that you require, please do not hesitate to seek me for help. Now, it is necessary for you to attend the Sorting ceremonies." Draco and Hermione accompanied him to the doors outside the Great Hall, where they were told to wait until their names were announced.

"This is going to be one interesting year, wouldn't you say?" Draco said, nonchalantly leaning against the doors and listening to the names being called.

"Most interesting indeed," Hermione said, nodding her head in agreement.

Finally Draco heard his name being called and he slipped through the doors after wishing her luck.

What's going on?? She had Draco wishing her luck on the sorting. This is one nasty dream, Hermione thought to herself, hitting her head against the door. Never mind the fact that they had no possible way of getting back since time turners had not been invented. She heard the loud call of Slytherin and her name being announced. Opening the door slowly, she entered the room, revealing herself to all the students who studied her carefully as she strolled to the front of the room. If anything, she knew how Harry felt when everyone was staring at him at these events. Her eyes flew across to the Slytherin table where Draco was calmly sitting back and not talking to the students around him. She wondered curiously which one of those students was Tom Riddle. She was rather convinced that it was a short pale student who was rather plain and sitting with a bunch of his cronies like Malfoy did in her time. Finally, the hat was placed on her head. _Ahhhh Miss. Granger. Now, let's see what we can do here. Intelligent yes. Oh dear. You would be perfect in Slytherin, you would meet your match in Slytherin…_

_'_Please don't put me in Slytherin,' Hermione desperately thought.

_Not in Slytherin eh? Well considering your mission, perhaps it would be best if you were in…_

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat screamed, nearly knocking her off the chair. She gracefully removed the hat and seated herself at the Ravenclaw table. After the sorting ceremony was completed, Dippet finished his speech which was incredibly boring compared to Dumbledore's speeches from her time. The food appeared on the table to Hermione's delight. She began eating hurriedly, perfectly imitating Ron's table manners until she felt a pair of eyes on her.

She lifted her head from her food and noticed a blonde haired girl staring at her intentionally to get her attention. "Hi, Hermione is it? I'm Cornelia," she said, shaking Hermione's hand. "This is Patrick," she said, hitting the guy on her left who had been talking to a few other students.

"Enchanted to meet you, my dear Hermione," he said, kissing her hand instead of shaking it.

Hermione simply smiled, but the smile quickly changed into a frown while peeking at the Slytherin table. Draco was apparently having no trouble making new acquaintances but he was not the one who had caught her attention. A few seats away sat a handsome dark haired boy around her age whose eyes were steadily focused on Hermione. As much as Hermione found it ridiculous, she was having a staring contest with this unknown student who was doing an incredible job at not blinking. Alright perhaps it was caused by her new looks… it was not something she had experienced in her own time. It was usually Lavender or Parvati who had boys staring at them constantly.

'What makes you think he's staring at you for those reasons?' she thought to herself angrily. 'You're not here for blasted guys. Sure, he looks great, but he's probably like every other guy. They're all in it for their own interests and don't think it's different in this time.'

Finally, Hermione was distracted when Cornelia began speaking to her again, "Hermione, do you have your schedule with you? Maybe we have the same classes and I can show you around!"

Hermione finally blinked at the voice of her new friend, finding the mysterious boy smirking at her as if knowing that he had won some sort of competition between them. She glanced away and pulled out a sheet from her robes, showing her new schedule to some of the Ravenclaw students. When she glanced back at the Slytherin table, the student was talking to another student near him.

Meanwhile, on the Slytherin table, a heated discussion was going on between the upper years concerning the Hogwarts staff.

"Aye, my father doesn't think that Dippet is up to the job. Besides, keeping Muggle lovers like Dumbledore on the staff-,"Charles Black commented to his friend Malfoy, who nodded in agreement.

"Black," a person seated near him barked, not caring about interrupting. Black immediately stopped the conversation, annoyed. However the disappointment on his face was rapidly masked as he leaned towards the person to hear what he needed to say.

"Where is that new student in our house from?" he asked Black, wiping his mouth and folding the napkin neatly on his plate.

"Draco? I'm not quite sure, but supposedly from the same place as that new girl in Ravenclaw," Black said, gazing at the new Ravenclaw girl, "Must say, I don't mind a fine addition to Hogwarts like her."

"Yes, and please don't mind me saying that you will stay away from her," he ordered Black, finishing the rest of his drink.

"I don't take orders Riddle," Black scoffed, "Especially not from a half blood."

"If you know what's good for you, you'll listen," the student answered back in a deadly voice, looking at Black furiously. "Find out what you can about Devereux," the student said, focusing on the Ravenclaw table.

"And the girl, Tom?" Black said, following the direction of Tom's stare.

"I'll take care of that," Tom said, smirking.

Black shuddered at the thought of Tom's interest in the girl. This was surely a first. Tom Riddle interested in a girl instead of having his nose in the books. Fascinating, simply fascinating.

Hermione searched the Slytherin table for the student who had caught her attention earlier, but to no avail. "Cornelia, I was wondering… do you know the student who was sitting near the boy with the black hair. The bloody baron has taken his seat now."

"Why Hermione, silly… I don't know who you're talking about… and how did you know about the bloody baron?" Cornelia responded.

Hermione realized her mistake, and tried to correct herself quickly, "I believe that Professor Dumbledore mentioned him."

Cornelia nodded and returned to eating her desert. Twenty minutes later, Hermione was about to leave with her new Ravenclaw friends when she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder, prompting her to turn around. She found herself face to face with the mysterious student from Slytherin.

"Hello, you must be Hermione," he said in a deep voice with an Irish lilt and flashed a charming smile, "I'm Tom Riddle and the Head Boy at Hogwarts."

Now, if first impressions did not mean a thing, especially for the dark lord, she would have completely made a fool of herself in front of him. Just when he was beginning to think she was slow in thinking, she responded.

"Pleasure to meet you," she said in a suave voice, smiling and flipping her hair. 'Please tell me he's on Hogwarts business,' she thought to herself.

"Dippet wanted me to show you around the school," he said, his face completely emotionless.

'Saved!!!' Hermione thought in delight, 'Yet a tour of Hogwarts with the Dark Lord. Definitely not at the top of her list of things to do while in the 40's. Unless she was planning to kill him, which would be highly unlikely.' Nervously, she searched the room for Draco who was absolutely no where in sight when required. Stupid ferret.

"Sure! That would be great or I'll have a wonderful time getting to my classes tomorrow," Hermione said sarcastically. Without another word, he headed towards the far end of the Great Hall. She was having so much trouble keeping up with Tom's long strides, considering that he was significantly taller than her.

'Alright, he isn't short. Or bad looking… pretty much the opposite,' she thought.

He turned his head and was about to comment when someone patted Hermione's back.

"Where are you going?" Draco said, eyeing Hermione carefully. She could see him suspiciously eyeing Tom through the hair that had fallen over his eyes.

"Tom is showing me around the school, want to come?" Hermione asked, relieved that Draco had decided to get his ferret arse to her on time before being taken on the tour of hell with Mr. Voldie. She turned around and asked Tom sweetly, "Mind if Draco joins?"

Tom shrugged and began to walk away, which Hermione concluded was his way of saying that he personally did not care if he joined since he didn't bloody care who Draco was.

"Someone has all the bloody manners in the world," Draco sneered, under his breath.

"If I remember correctly," Hermione said, pausing in a reflective manner and stroking her chin. She smirked as though suddenly having an epiphany, "Never knew you had any as well." Hermione quickened her pace to catch up to Tom.

Their tour consisted of Tom not really talking unless it was a small introduction to the rooms. 'Funny, never thought he would be the quiet type,' Hermione thought, as they reached the library… the most interesting part of Hogwarts in Hermione's opinion.

"And of course, this is the library," Tom said, introducing the library in a higher tone than the rest of the places they had visited.

"Bugger, you shouldn't have showed us here. Now, Hermione will be constantly hibernating here if not in class," Draco said, rolling his eyes at Hermione.

"Ohhhh," Tom said, not frowning at her for the first time since Draco joined, "A fan of the library as well?"

She smiled in response, "Aye, don't listen to Draco. Looooooovvvves to exaggerate. I do get out."

"Guess I'll have to add that to my list of horrid duties. Making sure you get out," Tom said, raising his eyebrow and watching Hermione slide her fingers across the books on the shelves.

'Oh dear. A compliment from Voldie, oh dear.' Her fingertips stopped at one of the books and she picked it out. Turning around, she opened it and skimmed through its contents, "Really, my my, didn't know I was considered a 'horrid duty'." She grinned, glancing up at him from the book.

"Well excuse me, my dear Ms. Ravenclaw. You most certainly are not," Tom said in a monotone, yet amused voice. "How unfortunate that you're not sharing the same duties as me. From what I've heard, you would be a good competitor in all subjects."

She was surprised that at his suggestion but figured that she'd regret this conversation later.' "Good competitor for you?"

"You could say that," Tom said, rather arrogantly, "Question is, do you think you'll be able to hold your head above the water."

"Always up to a challenge," she said, snapping the book shut. "Will you be able to handle it?"

She slowly approached Tom, not knowing what had gotten into her. Draco was staring at her in disbelief.

"I should be asking you that question. Not sure if a weak Ravenclaw like you can stand up to the fierce competition from Slytherin." Tom said, cocking his head to the left and studying Hermione.

Hermione tied up her hair in a pony tail, deciding to give Tom a bit of attitude. Besides, if she was right, Tom would only respect people who were not afraid of him. Wasn't that how he respected Dumbledore, the only person who did not fear him? "Oh really? Fierce competition like _you_," she said slyly, "Been there, done that." She walked closer to him, and whispered, "Bring it on, Mr. Head Boy." She began to leave the library, but twisted around on her heels and glared at Draco and Tom, "Are you coming?"

They followed her, leaving the library. Her face reddened in shock at how she had acted towards Tom. Entering the Great Hall, Tom spoke once again, "Dippet mentioned you'd need to purchase some items in Hogesmeade. I've been told to show you the way. We'll meet after classes and go there directly." They both nodded in agreement. "Excellent. Hermione, those students are in Ravenclaw, you can follow them up to your room."

"Thanks," she said, "See you tomorrow."

_**Let me know what you think **__****__**, please review! **_


	2. Caught in the Act

**_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, they're from Harry Potter. _**

**_I'm still looking for a beta reader… so if this chapter has any errors… please tell me! If you have suggestions for the plot, go ahead…I have written the next few chapters but I could probably fit some things in if I think they're appropriate to the plot. _**

_**Question: on with the recent rules, can we put song lyrics in our fic if we say the name of the song?**_

_**SPOILERS ahead from Book 6…**_

_**CHAPTER 2**_

The next day Hermione was enjoying a scrumptious breakfast with some of her new friends from Ravenclaw. Despite missing her friends and being branded the title of 'new student', making friends in Ravenclaw was easier than she had first thought. Hence, the transition to a different house had transpired without any trouble and she was already adapting very well to the time period.

Patrick was Ron's twin in terms of his personality with perhaps a little more charm when it came to the topic of women. They both had a similar love of Quidditch but the former made the interaction with the opposite sex as vital as catching the snitch in a game that was tied between Slytherin. Nevertheless, Hermione was not surprised to find that the house rivalry between Ravenclaw and Slytherin was not like the celebrated hate relationship with Gryffindor and Slytherin. On the other hand, Hermione was beginning to think that the bond between Ravenclaw and Draco's house was as much as saying they were star crossed lovers. Both houses kissed up to each other's arses when required and both were equally ambitious but in different matters.

Cornelia was developing into a great female friend for Hermione, considering the high amounts of testosterone surrounding Hermione constantly since most of her new friends in Ravenclaw consisted of guys. She was constantly telling Hermione the do's and don'ts at Hogwarts, which made Hermione wonder what was her opinion of their Head Boy, Tom Riddle.

Rob was Muggle student that she met last night after her tour. It was not hard to see that Patrick and Rob were very close friends, especially with their shared love of Quidditch. Rob was obviously the more timid of the two friends.

All four of them headed towards their first class, Potions, where they were joined by several of the Slytherins including Tom and Draco. It did not seem that Tom and Draco had befriended each other, judging from the fact that they were sitting a mile from each other.

From the way her friends walked past Tom without acknowledging his presence, Hermione assumed that he was not one of the Slytherins that they associated themselves with. This was definitely bizarre for Hermione… then again perhaps it was the same way that she would never find herself conversing with Crabbe or Goyle about the weather. Tom watched them pass by with a blank expression on his face.

"Good morning, Tom," Hermione said, prompting her friends from Ravenclaw to turn around and look at her in wonder.

His head jerked up in confusion or surprise, she was not quite sure. "Morning," he muttered, nodding his head in acknowledgement.

She continued walking towards her friends' table and sat near Cornelia who immediately leaned towards her and whispered, "Didn't know you spoke to Riddle."

"Better not call him Riddle, Cornelia," Patrick sneered quietly, joining the conversation, "Bloody git hates being called by his full name. Don't know why the prat can't accept that he's a _half blood_. Heard that he hates his last name cause of his Muggle father."

"Well he showed Draco and I around the school and he's bringing us to Hogesmeade," Hermione said, unpacking her bag.

"_We_ could have helped you there," Rob said, quietly as he listened in to the conversation.

Cornelia nodded in agreement, "Something is wrong with that boy. Hardly talks to anyone besides some of the Slytherins, and they don't even seem to like associating with him. If I were you Hermione, I would stay away from him. _Trouble_, that's what he is."

They all quieted down and looked to the front of the class where the professor was beginning the lesson. This was definitely a huge surprise for Hermione. So the dark lord did not seem to have many friends in Hogwarts and he hardly spoke to everyone. Why should she be astonished? He was probably to busy planning for world domination and making up little names for his alternate identity. She laughed to herself, 'For all you know he must be doodling the variety of costumes for his future villain days in his notebook.'

She stared at the back of his head, while he listened attentively to Slughorn.

'So there's more than meets the eye to Voldie,' she thought, rubbing the top of her quill against her lips. 'Let's see how far I can get to the real Tom Riddle.'

Towards the end of day, Hermione knew she had lots of hard work ahead of her if she was planning to keep up with Tom's standards. Much to her delight, it seemed that Tom had the exact same schedule as her. Bugger. She had escaped the Dark Lord in her own time, only to find him sitting near her in class. The only good part was that she had successfully surpassed the Head Girl, Kathleen Ross, in all the courses. This had greatly delighted her friends who greatly disliked the Hufflepuff Head Girl. As sad as it was, Kathleen was getting on Hermione's nerves a great deal more than Tom. Her Ravenclaw friends agreed that Tom was better since he avoided everyone. On the other hand, Kathleen was a Blast Ended Skrewt from hell. If Ron was there, he would have gone to Dippet and asked to be expelled from Hogwarts.

The only problem after getting past Kathleen was competing with Tom. Sure, she did have all the right answers but he definitely knew his material very well. For the first time, Hermione had found her true competition in class. He was absolutely brilliant and he did not stop himself from demonstrating his superiority. The entire day had been a long struggle between them as they were the only students answering the questions.

At their last class, she was packing up when Draco approached her for the first time that day. He carefully shut the door and put a silencing charm in the room so they would not be overheard. They were the only students in the class since the others had gone to see Patrick and Rob tryout for the Quidditch team.

"You're playing with fire, Granger," Draco condemned Hermione rather angrily as he approached her.

"What did I do?" she said, gazing at him innocently.

"Yesterday," he said, calming down, his arms across his chest as he casually leaned against the table.

She paused, knowing exactly what he was talking about. Continuing to pack, she muttered, "Don't know what got into me."

"Don't know what got into you! Hermione, this is not just any person we're talking about. It's Voldemort!" he said, closing his eyes after saying the final word. His right hand quickly slid over his left forearm and nervously ran through his hair.

"It just came out Malfoy, nothing I can do about it now," Hermione said sternly, flapping the top cover of her bag and locking it as she began to walk out of the classroom.

_**Draco's POV**_

"Nothing you can do about flirting with him, Granger?" he said, his voice rising and forcing her to come to a stop. She lowered her head while keeping her back towards Draco.

"Well what's your plan? Cause with the way you're going, you will land up as his enemy," Hermione said, angrily turning around.

"Wouldn't be the first," Draco scoffed, "Doesn't seem to have any friends from what I've heard. Look at your new friends… he might as well not exist! Pretty pathetic for a dark lord, don't you think?"

Hermione nodded in agreement. 'Excellent,' he said to himself, 'I'm finally getting somewhere in that stubborn head of hers.'

"We need to work together, Hermione," he said, finally reverting back to her first name after calming down. "As hard as it might be –"

"You're a Death Eater, aren't you?" Hermione said, glancing up at him vigilantly.

Draco lowered his head, knowing fully well that it was going to come up in their conversations sooner or later. 'What a fantastic pair to send to the past, Dumbledore,' he thought sarcastically, 'A Death Eater and Harry Potter's best friend.'

"Former Death Eater, Hermione…slight correction," he said, trying to be comical, "Mind you, some scars still remain… and will remain as a memory of my mind-blowing days in the highest paying profession of the dark side."

He sighed after managing to stifle a small laugh from Hermione.

"So what do you suggest we do?" Hermione said, not quite sure if she should ask him what happened that made him join forces with the Order of the Phoenix.

"Easy. Keep doing what you're doing… minus the flirting and don't get to close to him," Draco said, shrugging.

"Nice, Draco… you might as well tell me to avoid him completely. It's not called flirting… it's being friendly-"

"FRIENDLY? What a load of cobblers! Thought you were smarter than him. Next, you'll be making out with him and tell me that you were studying Defense against the Dark Arts. Are you bloody insane?" he said, grabbing his head in frustration.

"I don't like him and vice versa," she said steadily, tapping her foot impatiently.

Perhaps it was silly of him, but he was having an internal struggle the entire day on whether he should point out that Tom had been staring at her constantly throughout the day… nevermind all the smirks on his face whenever she answered a question before him correctly. Of course, he…Draco Malfoy… would do the same. It probably annoyed him that someone was a slightly better expert at the smirking game than him. He frowned at this thought and glanced at Hermione. What would she think if he told her this information? Why had he even noticed it? Maybe Tom Riddle was only suspicious about her being a new student. Then again… he didn't see Tom Riddle checking him out. NOT that he desired that….In fact, he seemed quite comfortable with the knowledge that Tom Riddle was at least straight in his time. The last thing he needed was for a dark lord to be hitting on him when he is desperately trying to pass his academic year in the 40's. That made him ponder his situation more, especially if his marks would get carried on to his own time. If not, there would be one hugely upset Malfoy.

Hermione rolled her eyes, saying, "Tom is probably waiting for us." She opened the door and left the classroom. Draco hurriedly tried to catch up with her, pulling her by the shoulder but she continued to walk down the hallway.

"What would _Ron_ and _Harry_ think about this?" he said, knowing he had hit the right spot when she rotated around and looked ready to strangle him.

"Don't you _dare_ bring them into this," she said dangerously.

"_Why not?_" Draco said, leaning over Hermione, "_Scared_ of what they would think?"

"Stop it will you," Hermione said, getting annoyed with Draco who was laughing at her reaction.

"Meh, we can always inform them with wedding invitations. Wouldn't that make them happier?" he said, playing around with her.

She whipped out her wand and pointed it at his nose, "Draco, I will curse you to infinite imprisonment on the bloody moon if you don't shut your mush!"

Clap. Clap. Clap. They both turned their head to the left to find Tom staring at them, "Fairly amusing mouth she has, that is…" he said, glancing at Draco for approval, "Would like to inform you, Hermione, that threatening another student on the first day of class is not something that fits well with Hogwarts."

Hermione lowered her wand, knowing fully well that she should not have acted in that way towards Draco.

"Now…since I truly wish for Slytherin to win the house cup at the end of the year, perhaps my housemates wouldn't mind if I removed," he paused, as if reflecting, "Twenty points from Ravenclaw. Fifteen for bad behavior towards another student and five for making the Head Boy wait when he has _better_ things to do."

"That's completely _not_ fair!" Hermione said, feeling as if she was about to punch Tom for being a complete twit. "_He_ also made you wait, how come you're not _removing_ any points from _him_? Ohhhhhhhh right, he's in bloody Slytherin with you!"

"Now, now, Hermione, you should stop there before you say anything you regret. Yes, Draco _is_ in my house," Tom said, quickly looking at Draco, "However, I have not finished what I was saying. Considering your _marvelous_ performance in class today, I wouldn't want to discourage you on your first day of classes. I think five points from Ravenclaw will suffice and personally, I will forgive you for your latter incident."

Draco felt like gagging at the sight of his master hitting on Hermione Granger, out of all people. 'Oh come on, you know she's quite a fine specimen…,' another voice said in his head, making him feel like he was going to be very sick if he had to remain with Tom and Hermione another minute.

"_Good_," Hermione said in a haughty voice, a small smile forming on her lips, "I assure you it won't happen again."

"Hmmmm, something tells me you will be a real troublemaker," Tom said, smirking.

"Only in class," she said, timidly looking down at the floor. She completely ignored Draco, who was shifting impatiently near her.

" _Good_," Tom said, mimicking Hermione's voice, "Would hate for you to disappoint."

"Well then!" Draco said, having enough with the scene before him, "Shall we get our stuff?"

_**Hermione's POV**_

All three of them reached Hogesmeade and were walking around, deciding which store to enter first.

"So… you two came to Hogwarts without your trunks?" Tom said, eyeing them carefully.

Both of them knew the question was going to come at one point. Draco decided to take control of the situation, answering, "Our trunks met a miserable end while we were traveling to school. We were traveling to London when we ran into a couple of problems at the border crossing."

Tom nodded, seeming to accept Draco's explanation since it was a common problem during that time.

"Clothes?" Hermione asked to change the subject quickly, pointing eagerly towards a store to the left.

They both followed her into the store and watched her being whisked by the clothes lady who seemed that she had been waiting for her first victim from Hogwarts to dress after the holidays.

"What do ya need, dearie?" the plump woman named Gertrude asked Hermione.

"A new wardrobe," Hermione responded shyly.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," the woman said, worrying the boys that the woman would have a heart attack on the spot, "Let's start on that, right away!" She began pulling Hermione towards the back of the room. Hermione looked back at Draco and Tom, sending them a fearful look as if pleading them to rescue her. Instead, Draco laughed at the pitiful sight of Hermione being attacked by clothes until Hermione whispered something in the woman's ear.

"LIZZZZZZZZZIE, DEAR ME. GET THE BLONDE LAD. He needs a new wardrobe," the woman screamed. This only provoked another woman who looked more like a giant to approach Draco. He gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes at Hermione as he was attacked by a selection of robes and other clothing. Tom simply walked around the room seeming quite indifferent to the situation. He stopped at Hermione's changing room, where the woman was trying to convince Hermione to come out.

"Well, I don't know," Hermione replied hesitantly. "I'm not quite sure it fits very well."

The woman peeked into the changing room, "OHHHHHHH, what are you saying! Looks perfectly fine! Corsets are very fashionable in the wizarding world. Especially under cloaks." She swished her wand around and Hermione flew out of the room and fell into Tom. He immediately reached out to steady her.

"This woman is mad," Hermione muttered to him, "Get me out of here."

"Don't you think it looks good on her?" the woman asked, tightening the cords in the back of the corset. A bell at the front of the store rang, prompting the woman to excuse herself as she went to welcome a new customer.

"You look … great," Tom said silently, glancing at Hermione who was simply studying the floor.

"Can't breathe," Hermione said, lifting her head. "_Help_."

She nearly died when she saw Tom Riddle actually laugh at her. If she had all her senses, she would have attacked him on the spot. Instead he carefully span her around and started loosening the strings of her corset.

"_Fashionable_, my arse," Hermione said, hurriedly thanking Tom before running into the change room.

Next, she came out in a black skirt and a sleeveless top with a wide neck. Draco stood near the changing rooms, apparently getting his robes hemmed.

"What do you think?" Hemione said, walking around the guys and showing off her new style with her black high heels. She stopped in her place and shrugged, "Ahhhh, yes it won't do."

"It looks good," Draco said bluntly, as she was returning to the change room.

"It's too tight," Hermione said, blushing, "Doesn't feel right." If Ginny was here, she would be smacking Hermione left and right. Hermione constantly rejected all types of clothing because she felt it didn't fit well.

"_Trust me_, it fits well," Draco said, standing impatiently as the woman pinned down the edges of his robes. He added in a colder voice, "Wouldn't you _agree_, Tom?"

Tom shrugged and began to walk towards the front of the room. Hermione frowned but she could have sworn that she saw Tom glance back in her direction for a moment.

When she came out with her items, she found a woman bothering Draco with his left sleeve. This reminded Hermione a lot of a similar event exactly a year ago in Diagon Alley. She knew quite well what was hidden under that sleeve…and if Tom were to see it…

"That won't be necessary-," Draco pleaded angrily, although he knew very well that he needed more robes badly.

"Now, now, we can't have you walking around in your robes-,"the petite woman said, fixing his robes.

"Can't you bloody understand! NO!" Draco said, nearly about to push the woman off him when Hermione approached.

"Ohhhhhhh Draco darling," Hermione drawled, trying to ease the tension between the sales clerk and Draco. "Those robes look fantastic."

"Don't worry about the hemming, it will be fine," Hermione said to the sales clerk. She stepped up on the small platform that Draco was standing on. He watched in confusion as Hermione began to undress him by removing the robe.

"What?" she asked innocently, "Can we get out of this place before they throw me into another corset?"

"Need my robes hemmed," Draco complained, his warm breath tickling her forehead as she undressed him.

"No worries, I know a spell," she said, waving her hand in the air as if it wasn't anything important. He picked up his robes and approached the sales counter to join Hermione in paying for the clothes. Tom went outside of the store to wait for them. Meanwhile, Draco seized the opportunity to question Hermione, "What are you up to now?"

"Don't know what you're talking about," Hermione shrugged as she handed over several coins to the lady.

"_Draco darling?"_ he said, his eyebrow arching as if the words disgusted him. "Beginning to sound like Parkinson."

"Well you want me to stay away with him cause _you_ think we're in love with each other… why not give him the idea that I'm with someone else," Hermione said, grinning devilishly.

"ME?" Draco said, nearly slamming his head into the wall, "Why me?"

"Means we'll have more time to spend with each other," Hermione explained, "In order to plan out everything."

Draco stood, looking at her placidly before finally giving in. "No kissing. No touching. Pleasssssssseeeeeeee. It's enough that I have to be working with _you_ on this."

"_Ohhhhhhh_, did Drakie wakie say please? _Aaaaaannnnnnnh_," Hermione cooed, making a perfect impersonation of Pansy Parkinson.

"Stop it, Hermione, or I'm not going through this shit," he said, paying for his items.

"Am I _really_ as bad as Pansy?" she asked him, a horrified look on her face.

"Better than her any day," he murmured under his breath.

"What did you say," Hermione asked, who has been too distracted to hear what he had said.

Draco muttered, "Nothing," and left the shop with Hermione following closely behind.

**_If you want to be my beta reader, email me. Suggestions to the fic and criticism is accepted. Reviews are really appreciated. _**

_**Thanks for your reviews… runaway mental patient, Lynzie, Lilia Black, mel, slytherin28, Taroshi, imogenhm.**_

**_Oh yes…and a preview of the next chapter…_**

"Does the number seven mean anything to you," she said, as if pondering her own question, "Horcruxes. Don't know what that means."

Hermione watched as all the blood drained completely from his face, leaving him awfully white.

"Tom?" she asked worriedly, carefully watching him tighten his grip on his wand.


	3. Breathing Fire

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters. There are spoilers from HBP in this fic. The name de Lioncourt is inspired by Anne Rice._

_Sorry that this chapter was delayed. Thanksgiving got in the way and it does not help that I have been working overtime nearly every single night. Also, I would like to thank Encantada for correcting! _

_Many of you commented on Hermione's hair and all I have to say that it is not to make her beautiful but it's part of the story in a way. Also, I might be making a few small changes to Chapter 1 and 2 for future readers (you don't have to reread it lol)._

_**CHAPTER 3**_

Entering her first class on Thursday morning, Hermione was not sure if she would last till the end. No, in fact she probably would probably die the moment the professor entered. This was worse than being in the same school as the future dark lord. Maybe she was exaggerating, but it was at least as bad.

"Welcome to your final year of Divination," said a young professor who reminded her awfully of Trelawney.

Mercy. Okay, now she was about to collapse. Her hand rushed to her forehead in contemplation of how she was going to spend the rest of the hour. She had not even taken an OWL for Divination so she shouldn't be in a NEWT level Divination course! Yet, here she was…

"Feeling alright, Hermione?" Draco said, mockingly, "You're awfully pale."

Of course she was not alright; she thought that she had escaped this abominable class in her own time. Hermione groaned loudly, shifting the weight of her bag further along her shoulder.

"Hurry a bit, won't you," Draco said, rudely to Hermione in front of his Slytherin friends. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Or you'll be sitting with one nasty Slytherin."

"Who? You?" Hermione asked, poking Draco in the ribs with her wand.

"To think that I was feeling sorry for you and going to give you the honor of sitting near me," Draco said, arrogantly as he walked past her with a bunch of his new cronies.

"Honor, my arse," Hermione murmured, mentally aiming missiles at Draco's retreating body.

"Later, babe," Draco drawled, turning around and winking at her.

"In your dreams, ferret," she replied forcefully, slamming her bag down at the only available seat in the class. Immediately, all her previous plans of fooling Tom about her relationship with Draco had gone up in flames.

"My, my you two get along very well," a familiar voice said sarcastically, "You nearly had fooled me the other day at the shop."

_Great. Just brilliant_. Not only was she stuck in Divination for the next two hours due to the stupid education curriculum of the 40's, but she had also landed a spot by Hogwarts' finest Head Boy.

She sighed, "We have a hate relationship. Too complicated to explain."

"Really?" Tom said questionably, "What's the whole _ferret_ part about?"

Hermione grinned and said reminiscently, "Long story. Funny, but long. A former teacher of ours transfigured him once as a punishment." When Tom's face lightened up slightly at the image of Draco as a ferret, she assumed that there was someone else enjoying the idea as much as her.

"So, how good are you in divination?" Tom asked quietly.

Hermione refused to form a proper answer, besides a low but audible growl. Besides, she usually condemned Harry and Ron for talking in class. Then again, it _was_ only Divination…

"Good," Tom said bluntly, "This class is a bunch of crap. Don't have to worry about our challenge." His face turned, ever so slowly in her direction, and he smirked.

At that moment, Hermione was convinced that she was mad for feeling overjoyed at Tom's comment. After hearing all her Ravenclaw classmates talk incessantly about the blasted course as if it was the best thing on the face of the earth, it was a bit awkward to know that there was more sanity to the murderous creature sitting next to her than she had initially thought. Finally, lifting her head from the table, she glanced in astonishment at Tom, "_Pleasure_ to meet another person who detests this class as much as I do." She silently added to herself, 'Though I wouldn't mind stuffing your head in a cage of chimaeras. Too bad I can't get my hands on a few…'

Tom smirked and sank down in his seat, listening to the professor in boredom.

"Now my dears, you will be working with the student seated at your table. We will be performing an advanced experiment of Daphnomancy. The mind will ask the questions and seek for responses in the fire. Please take the laurel branches which are collected at the window's sills and follow the directions on page fifteen of your textbooks."

Hermione opened her book and immediately got the odor of tea leaves as she turned to the specified page. She sighed, thankful that the Divination books were not like Hagrid's textbooks for Magical Creatures textbooks. Unfortunately, the professor made up for that factor. Although she was not Trelawney, she still seemed to be a 'crackpot' as Ron would say it. She had officially been deemed a crackpot after suggesting that they counsel the branches through their strenuous transition to the other world.

Tom and Hermione collected the necessary items and decided that Hermione would start the task. After filling up the water basin, she placed the tree branches into the water. Next, let a thin dark brown of his fall into the water. At last, Hermione added the final touches and set the branches on fire.

"See anything?" Tom said annoyingly after she has been investigating the basin for what seemed like an eternity. He waved his hand over the smoke and coughed slightly.

She squinted her eyes to pretend that she was doing work, but even that was getting tiring for her since it was Divination. What else could be expected? She did not see a thing!

"Let's just get on with it and get it over with, shall we?" Tom sneered, moving his chair away from the basin to avoid the smoke.

"_Wait_," she said, gripping the sides of the basin.

Tom leaned towards her from across the table, waiting for her to speak. Hermione definitely wanted the upper hand on Tom Riddle. No one could blame her for breaking a few rules with Divination?

"I see a name starting with a V," she said suddenly, when Tom's attention began to wander to other places in the class. Immediately after her words, his head jerked in her direction.

"Not sure what it says," she said, pretending to study the branches and fire as if her life depended on it. "Voldamont? Hmmm… no, doesn't seem right. _Voldemort_," she muttered to him, lifting her head confusingly.

By the perplexed look on his face, she undeniably had his full attention although he was doing a really good job of being indifferent. "Then again, it's probably a bunch of rubbish."

"_Continue_," he ordered, prodding his head to the basin and gazed at her in wonder. Hermione could have sworn that he had quickly performed a silencing charm around them to avoid eavesdroppers.

He simply nodded his head, his eyes glinting darkly. She had never seen his eyes in that way. It made his handsome face look more wicked and cruel as if he was the devil himself, waiting to be revealed. Hermione quickly reminded herself that he was already a murderer, especially since he had probably murdered his father and grandparents a few months ago.

"Does the number _seven_ mean anything to you," she said, as if pondering her own question, "_Horcruxes_. Don't know what that means."

Hermione watched as all the blood drained completely from his face, leaving him awfully white.

"_Tom?_" she asked, proud of the reaction she had received from him but carefully eyeing his grip tightening on his wand. A few meters away, she heard the professor announcing that it was time to finish off their work.

He shook his head and began to help her clean up without him saying a word. They were about to leave the class when Hermione apologized to help alleviate his suspicions a bit, "Honestly thought I was speaking rubbish in there. Really sorry if I upset you…"

Except she was certainly not sorry, but her boldness at provoking his infamous temper made her tremble.

"Hermione," Tom said audaciously, stopping to let the other students pass, "That was the best reading anyone has given me. Few witches or wizards can do what you did in that class after studying years of Divination and looking at bloody branches."

Hermione blushed at Tom's compliment but mostly from knowing that she had faked it.

"Don't know why you said you're horrible-," he muttered thoughtfully to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. He glanced at her suspiciously as she shrugged, not wishing to discuss the matter any more.

"First time it has happened to me," Hermione explained confidently.

"I'd like you to _show_ me a bit of those _skills_ some time, if you have the time. Mind you, I still think that course is complete bullocks," he said, arrogantly. He seemed to be looking everywhere but her, while awaiting her answer.

"Sounds good, but only if you'll help me out in Defense Against the Dark Arts," she responded, grinning. So she decided to barter her 'skills' in exchange for DADA, her only course without an Outstanding. "Can't say I didn't warn you about my horrible talents with it.""You're already good at DADA, but sure," he said, passively. He calmly asked, with an underlying menace in his tone, "Would you mind not mentioning anything you saw in there to anybody?"

"_No problem_," Hermione said, feeling as if she was going to shrink under his steady gaze.

Hearing a nearby clock chiming, Hermione slapped herself on the head. "Completely forgot that Cornelia is waiting for me in the Great Hall," she said in frustration, "See you later!" He raised his hand to say farewell while listening to her heels hitting the floor in an enchanting rhythm as she ran out of his sight.

Later that day, Hermione met up with Draco in the room of requirement.

"You're late," he said, placidly, seated on a black seat in a dark corner of the room.

Hermione ignored his comment and went straight to business, "What did you want to tell me?"

"The meetings have started," he said blankly.

"_He told you_?" she said, shocked that Tom had actually invited him to the Death Eater meetings.

"Nope, heard from Black," he responded. Hermione shuddered at the thought of one of _Sirius'_ relatives congregating with the Death Eaters.

"Black is interested," Draco said, rising from the shadows and coming into Hermione's view.

"Doesn't surprise me, considering his family," she said, laying her bag on the floor and sitting down on a nearby couch. "Several members of Black family and their relatives are Death Eaters." She blushed, knowing very well that Draco belonged under the same family tree. Draco's eyebrows arched in surprise of Hermione's knowledge but refused to question her sources.

TTrue to form, the room was well equipped with many necessary items such as food. She opened a bottle of butterbeer while biting into a chocolate frog, as Draco sat down beside her.

"Not talking about the meetings," he said, rolling his eyes, "He fancies you."

Before Draco could continue, she spewed her drink and began coughing. Draco patted her on the back until she calmed down.

"Wants me to bring you to the meeting," Draco said, glancing at another part of the room as if something was on his mind. "Tom wants him to gather a few prominent pureblood students."

"_You're_ planning on going?" she asked anxiously.

"_Why_?" he asked, turning his head to face her, "_Worried_?"

"_No_," she said cheekily, provoking Draco's head to turn back to its previous position.

"How is Black?" she asked, laying her head against the sofa's pillows.

"He's not to be trusted. _Don't_ go near him," Draco responded hastily, "How is Tom?"

Why did Draco not want her to meet Charles Black? He did not seem like one of the worst Slytherins. Then again, she did see him speaking with Tom earlier in the school year and he was handing out invitations to the Death Eater meetings. "Wants me to teach him Divination," she said, knowing fully well that she had buried herself in a hole.

"After your grand exit from Trewlaney's class, why would anyone _like_ him want _you_ for help," Draco muttered. "He doesn't waste any time. Hope you know how to kiss well. The dark lord has _high_ expectations for all his _interests_."

Hermione's mouth widened as she punched him in the arm, "Well it will serve us well for our plans just like how your attendance at the meetings is beneficial. Besides, he probably _thinks_ that it will be advantageous to him if I can tell him more about his future"

"For Merlin's sake, I have tryouts for the Slytherin team and I would like to keep all my body parts in full form till then," Draco replied, rubbing his arm. "Forgot you had such a great arm! Must be all that sexual tension gathering from third year. Bet that will come in handy… must be the rough sex type of guy."

He watched in amusement as she turned as red as Weasley's hair. She began hitting him with the couch pillows.

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione said, crossing her arms across her chest and looking at him furiously with her eyes blazing, "I demand an apology for such rubbish."

He gazed back at her innocently and smirked at the sight of the real Hermione Granger he knew.

"It's the truth," he said, throwing a pillow at her head.

Her anger had reached its limit. It was foolish to suggest that Tom wanted to bed her!

She cried out, "Ohhhhhhh, you're sooooooooo going to regret saying that," she said, hitting him so hard with the pillows that feathers began floating all around them. Soon he had her shrieking as his hands wrapped around his waist, forcefully making her fall onto him.

"So the great Hermione Granger has a weakness," he laughed, listening to her squeal every time he tickled her sides.

"_Stoooop it_…I'll kick!" she shrieked, slapping his chest and laughing hard. She had lost all control of her body as he tickled her senseless. Little did Hermione know, she was not the only one suffering, or rather enjoying being left senseless.

Her long, dark ringlets flew across Draco's face, making him inhale the deeply fragrant scent of her hair.

'Damn she smells good,' Draco thought to himself, despite feeling like killing himself for acting like this towards her. 'She's a Muggle for crying out loud. Sure, you've joined the Order of the Phoenix, but that does not mean you have to become like the other foolish members and forget your Malfoy pride.'

Her warm lips brushed against his neck, sending shivers up his spine. His neck felt incredibly sensitive at the slightest touch of her as if someone was blowing cool air down his upper back. Subconsciously, one of his hands slid over her back and landed on her neck. Her neck was definitely ticklish as well, although those had not been his intentions. Her weight shifted on the couch and she kicked out hard, knocking the entire couch over.

Draco slowly elevated himself off Hermione so as not to hurt her, while falling feathers surrounded them.

"_Ouch_," Hermione muttered, rubbing the back of her head.

"Did you hurt yourself?" he murmured, his fingers reaching to remove a few strands of hair away from her face.

"A bit," she breathed, staring back at him intently.

His eyes slipped momentarily down to her pink lips. 'Get a grip of yourself, mate,' he told himself, 'Just get up and brush yourself off. Don't kiss her.' Pause. 'Dear God, she's raising her hand.' Her small delicate hand landed on his left cheek, allowing him to close his eyes for a few seconds until she pulled her hand away.

"Had a feather stuck in your collar," she whispered, pulling the feather and rubbing its tip along his jaw. The feather rested on his lips and for that second, Draco nearly lost all of his will as a Malfoy. They were already only a few inches away from each other and closing the gap wouldn't be such a bad idea…

"Shoot!" Hermione screamed from glancing up at her watch, making him jump, "It's past midnight!"

She hurriedly tried to stand up, which only caused her to stumble on the items on the floor. Draco helped her up with a sigh.

"If Pringle catches us-," Hermione began, worriedly.

"He's not going to catch us. Trust me, I reckon I lived in these hallways half the time past the curfew hours and never got caught last year," Draco said, remembering those long anguishing nights that he worked to complete the task presented to him by the Dark Lord. Those long hours that he thought he would never live long enough to see the end of next summer.

Hermione picked up her bag and did a quick clean up spell on her robes before approaching the door.

"Follow me," he whispered, leading her out into the corridors and through various passageways. At one point, Pringle was walking in their direction and would have spotted them easily if Draco had not pulled Hermione into a dark crevice in the wall.

'Damn she smells so good… wonder what she showers with,' he thought, his mind began wandering off before he kicked himself mentally for about the hundredth time tonight, 'Stop fantasizing. No showers. Well… at least with her.'

When they were safe, they began to tread down the hallway again until they reached the corner where they needed to separate to go to their houses.

"Goodnight," she whispered, smiling. He nodded in return and they both went their individual ways.

Neither noticed a shadow lurking behind one of the statues. Tom crept out of his hiding place, his face darkened with hate. How he would have enjoyed catching the two students who were lurking past the curfew. However, that would only interfere with his plans…

Never before had Tom felt the deep gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach as he watched Hermione smile at Draco and touch his hand. Ever since he had started at Hogwarts, he had been able to conquer all obstacles. He had gotten rid of his Muggle father, a pathetic addition to the world. He was on his way to become something great… beyond what any of the professors, even Dumbledore, could even fathom. Wiser than his professors, he understood most of the things that there were to understand in class… besides Divination. He knew had several paths to encounter with greater mysteries and knowledge beyond the doors of Hogwarts…

Then there was this _girl_.

A _mere_ girl.

He did _not_ understand her.

He did _not_ like being left in the dark.

He would put an end to this by studying her until he knew every inch of how she thought and moved. He could not let her interfere with his plans….but then there was the boy. How could he explain it?

He despised people who attempted to manipulate his feelings. She had barely settled into the school and had already made it a habit of doing it left, right and centre.

_Thanks to Lilia Black, Encantada, Mrs. Skywalker, AquaxMarine, Melissa, dawn1 for reviewing and thanks to all those that have read till now! The next update will be around Oct. 26. Please review. Bye!_


	4. Knights of Walpurgis

_**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling besides the new characters and the plot.**_

_In other news… sorry for not being able to upload the fic on wed. Ah yes, and many of you were asking which pairing it was. I'm still not quite sure but I'll try to make both groups a little happy. Thanks to encantada for her wonderful editing!_

_Thanks to dawn1, encantada, quotheTheRavenNeverMore, Lalia xx, Daughter of the Faeries, Lilia Black, Takarameri, TaNoy, mrs skywalker, razzar, Floriana, Krazi Kelli and Alaksandra _

_**CHAPTER 4**_

Hermione sat in her transfiguration class, which was taught by Dumbledore and, coincidentally, her favorite course, learning how to transfigure a mouse into a wizard's chess set. As the extreme opposite of turning a match into a needle, transfiguring an individual object into several inanimate ones was a taunting task that required plenty of attention _unless_ performed accidentally. She fondly remembered her fifth year with a smile when Hannah Abbot multiplied a ferret into a flock of flamingos.

In her opinion, a subject that could turn a Malfoy into a bouncing ferret was worth mastering. There was so much beauty and enticement in such a complex magical art that it was clear why people like Rita Skeeter would abuse it horrendously to their advantage. Nonetheless, she refused to categorize herself with that lousy reporter.

"Crumbs, this really isn't working," Patrick said, beside Hermione. His chess set still managed to retain a small mouse's tail, which kept wiggling nervously.

"Untransfigure it," Hermione suggested, "Reckon you mispronounced the spell."

Her transfiguration was successfully attained after her second attempt, creating a luxurious ivory chess set.

"Excellent work, Miss de Lioncourt. Ten points to Ravenclaw." Dumbledore complimented her, nodding his head in approval.

Tom had achieved a black mahogany chess set with his first attempt and sat in the front of the class, tapping his quill impatiently against the oak table.

"Did you hear about Kathleen?" Patrick asked, grinning proudly when the tail finally disappeared after his fifteenth attempt. His grin was quickly replaced with a grimace however at the sight of his rainbow colored chess pieces. Shaking her head, she noticed for the first time that Edwards was missing from her usual spot. Usually she would have noticed such a significant absence in the class, but her mind had been incessantly set on other things.

"She's been in the hospital wing for a week. Pomfrey isn't allowing any visitors," Patrick said, miserably trying to make all his pieces the same color without having anything else go wrong.

"Is it serious?" Hermione asked, feeling sorry for the Head Girl even though she was snobbish. She immediately glanced over at Tom suspiciously.

Nope, it seemed to risqué, especially since he was Head Boy.

"No one knows. The professors and Dippet aren't saying a word about her condition. Sounds fishy to me," Patrick responded, looking over at Hermione's perfect chess set with a heavy sigh.

Hermione made a mental note to herself to look further into the details of Kathleen's absence. Considering that Hermione and Draco had very few sources to gather information from without provoking suspicion, it looked to be a considerable difficulty.

At the moment, Hermione was more focused on figuring out why Tom had been avoiding her for over a week. Since the beginning of school, he would at least acknowledge her whether Draco was right or not about the infatuation on Tom's part. Even that had ceased lately despite his former flirtatious manner. From the dark rings under his eyes, she assumed that the death eater meetings had begun lately. Nevertheless, why would he intentionally take different paths in the library to avoid her? She knew that it shouldn't bother her, because Tom was the silent type and rarely spoke to many students besides his snide remarks.

She wanted to be on speaking terms with him though, especially with the whole principle of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.

"Hermione," Patrick said, tapping her arm. He motioned to the front of the class, where Dumbledore was standing near a younger student who was looking at her expectantly.

"Miss de Lioncourt, please come here," Dumbledore said, solemnly. Hermione had never seen that grave look on his face unless something serious had occurred to put a student's life in danger. What had _she_ done? She quickly packed up and shrugged at the questioning look on Patrick's face. All the students had started whispering and looking at Hermione suspiciously, while Tom's blank expression offered no insight into his thoughts.

"The headmaster wants to see you in his office immediately," Dumbledore informed her, and with a knowing smile he added in a whisper, "You're not in trouble." She nodded and followed the student to Dippet's office, where he was waiting silently at his desk.

He was looking so gravely at Hermione, she did not know what to expect. "Miss de Lioncourt, as you might have heard, Miss Edwards has been sick lately," he said, glancing over at Hermione from his tiny spectacles. "Unfortunately, things have taken a bad turn and Hogwarts cannot provide her with the appropriate help. She was taken to St. Mungo's hospital this morning."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hermione replied, gazing back at Dippet, who was staring at her intently. She was curious to know exactly what had happened to Kathleen, but decided to not push her luck with this different headmaster.

"Which brings me to the reason I have called you," he said, a bit more cheerfully, "_All_ of your professors speak greatly about your performance in class. Tom Riddle has spoken _highly_ of your abilities."

She blushed at the thought of such a great wizard as Voldemort, regardless of his being evil, complimenting her magical abilities. Nonetheless, _why_ would Tom speak to the headmaster about _her_? The mystery surrounding Tom Riddle was thickening rapidly and heading in a direction that oddly enough did not have her kicking and screaming.

"Hence, _you_ would be the perfect candidate to replace Kathleen Edwards, if you are willing to accept my offer of Head Girl," Dippet said, awaiting Hermione's answer.

_Oh no_. The rules of the game were changing and Hermione only hoped that they were on their side. Tom would be expecting her to accept if he had encouraged her reinstatement as Head Girl at Hogwarts. The ball was in her court and it provided her the best opportunity to get closer, as planned. The more she could study him, the faster she could figure out his weaknesses. However…

"Yes, I accept," Hermione said, contemplating her excruciatingly long late nights with a murderer.

"Excellent! The house elves will begin moving your items. I'm sure Tom will be glad to help you with the transition," he said, more chirpily than the beginning of the meeting.

Hermione was restless as she reflected and unusually for her, Dippet's words entered one ear and sprinted out the other as they toured the Head rooms.

"_Just don't know when to stop, do you?"_ Ron's distant voice condemned. It was a sentence which had grown on her in recent years.

'_Perhaps…I really have crossed the line this time,_' she thought submissively, feeling as if the Grim Reaper was silently guiding her through the gloomy room that was overpowered by the Slytherin colors. A black curtain of obscurity hung over the half of the room belonging to Tom Riddle, prompting a struggle from the weak light entering by the narrow opening through the drapes of the window beside the Head Girl's room.

Dippet waved his wand and replaced the Hufflepuff decorations near what was now Hermione's room with explosions of light blue and silver banners. Complete with a fire and several couches, the room was very well decorated and seemed as cozy as the Burrow with the exception of it being more spacious. If it was not for the lingering shadow, the ambiance would have been greatly improved. There were stairs at the center of the room, leading to a library, which had two desks for studying. A cabinet was piled up with all the necessary foods enjoyed by the student population at Hogwarts. The _only_ horrendous letdown of the common room was that Hermione would have to share the private bathroom with his royal highness, Lord Voldie. It was surely going to be interesting, but Hermione refused to dwell on it any more. Due to the time, they were unable to check her room, which was still being arranged by the house elves.

Instead, she accompanied Dippet to the Great Hall for dinner. Thanking Dippet for the position, she walked quickly over to the Ravenclaw tables. Immediately, her friends questioned her about the meeting with Dippet, but she chose to avoid their questions until Dippet made his announcement to the students.

Patrick levitated the evening edition of the Daily Prophet towards

Hermione. "Told you something was in the air." Hermione checked the crumpled up paper, which had probably arrived recently. She had seen several students discussing the contents of the newspaper while walking over. Spotting a column that stated Kathleen's removal from Hogwarts, her eyes flew through the lines of the article, paying no attention to the food, which had appeared on the table.

The information that caught her attention the most was that Kathleen had

been diagnosed with Vulcanus. She remembered reading about the rare disease

that was mostly found south of the equator.

"They think that it was intentional," Cornelia said, getting a glimpse of the paper

over Hermione's shoulder.

"Doesn't it seem _odd_ that it's the second muggleborn attack in the past two years at Hogwarts?" asked Rob, silencing the students around him. "If you ask me, the person who opened the Chamber of Secrets is _still_ in the school."

"Nonsense," Patrick said, although his voice was hesitant, "Hagrid was expelled for it."

_Even_ if it had been Tom, she would not think that he would go around Hogwarts giving muggleborn students diseases after one was killed so recently. It would make him an easy target if he struck again without anyone to blame. Besides, wasn't it strange that Dumbledore had never mentioned this incident to Harry when he was telling him about Tom's school days? Surely, they _must_ have proved that it was caused in some other way…

Dippet stood up and the students settled down. "As you have heard," Dippet started, in a low voice, "due to unfortunate circumstances, we have lost our Head Girl, Miss Edwards. We must all keep her in our thoughts and prayers," he said, pausing to glance over at the Hufflepuff table, which was the most subdued in the hall. "Consequently, we have had the difficult task of reassigning the Head Girl's position. I encourage you to welcome Miss Hermione de Lioncourt as Miss Edwards' replacement. The staff and I are all convinced that she will do a great job," he finished, motioning his hand towards the Ravenclaw table.

Her classmates stared at her in shock.

"Well stand up, will you?" Rob laughed, pushing her back. She jumped up in her seat as the entire Ravenclaw applauded and hit their tables to cheer. The rest of the students followed, including the Slytherins. She glanced over at Tom Riddle, who was clapping his hands, leaning back on his chair with the same vacant expression. A couple of chairs further, she saw Draco staring directly at her with a dark expression. He quickly and discreetly mouthed the words, "You. Me. _Outside_."

After dinner had resumed, she accepted everyone's congratulations until noticing Draco walk clearly behind Cornelia and the others to get her attention. Without saying a word, he exited the room. She waited a few minutes before excusing herself and likewise leaving the room. When she did not find him waiting for her outside, she began to wander around the closest hallway of empty classes. This had been their usual spot for meeting if they couldn't make it to the Room of Requirement.

A hand suddenly jetted out of nowhere and pulled her into a room. Draco closed the door firmly and put a silencing charm on the room.

"_Decline_ the position," he said bluntly, turning around.

"_WHAT_?" she said, looking at him incredulously. "_No_!"

He removed the Daily Prophet from his robes and nearly shoved it in her face. "Don't you think there's something _wrong_ with this picture, Hermione?" he said, his hands shaking as he tossed the paper on one of the desks in rage. "Do you even have the slightest _clue_ what _Vulcanus_ is?" he said, his back turned to her.

"It's a rare disease," Hermione said plainly, strongly wanting to believe that there was nothing else behind the simple definition but she knew that Draco was onto something. "Mostly found in the south and it's hereditary."

"_Or_ passed through a _very difficult_ form of dark arts," Draco said, his voice rising to make a point to Hermione, "Now think, who could _possibly_ want to attack a Muggle and probably practice his love of the dark arts during his leisure time?"

"_Tom_," she replied, "It would be a great way for him to attract more _death eaters_."

"True," Draco said, turning to face her. "_If_ anyone knew that he was their leader."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, not knowing about the meetings, considering that she hadn't spoken to him or Tom for the same length of time. Although the idea seemed ridiculous to her, she was beginning to think that Draco had been avoiding her too.

"Everyone is masked and in black cloaks. Can't make him out," Draco explained, "Ahhh yes and they're not Death Eaters in this time. It's _Knights of Walpurgis_."

Hermione meditated thoughtfully about this name, " Hmmm, it's a play on Walpurgis night, the meeting time of the witches."

Draco nodded, "He never mentioned anything about Edwards."

"Then why would he do it if it wasn't for exposure?" Hermione said, confused.

Draco looked at her as if she were insane. "Last time I checked, Kathleen Edwards worked for the Ministry in our time and showed no sign of suffering from Vulcanus," Draco muttered, shaking his hair away from his eyes.

"So it started _when_ we arrived…" Hermione said, cursing the fact that their arrival had already begun to affect time negatively. She then recalled Dippet's words about Tom Riddle complimenting her magical abilities. "He wanted _me_ to replace Kathleen. Why me? He's been avoiding me."

"Brilliant," Draco said, raising his hands as if thanking some upper being, "He's been too busy working his charms on you…so he can get cozier with you later on."

"Don't be silly," Hermione said, sighing impatiently.

"It's the truth, 'Mione," he said, leaning against the board.

She looked at him oddly. Since when did he call her 'Mione? Dismissing it, she continued to listen him speak.

"I was fucking stupid not to have seen it earlier. He's been gawking at you since the first day. You're the only bloody person he speaks to!" Draco said.

"That doesn't mean _anything_," Hermione said, refusing to believe that Tom had any interest in her. "This is a great chance to find out more about him."

"_Perhaps_ I'm wrong in saying that he likes you, but the fact that he went as far as to _remove_ Kathleen from her position with a curse in order to have _you_ as Head Girl…" Draco said, watching Hermione stand up and approach him.

"We can't jump to conclusions, nor should we let go of this opportunity to use it to our advantage," Hermione said, determinedly.

Draco placed his fingertips under Hermione's chin, pushing it upwards. "Just promise me you'll be careful around him."

"I will, as long as _you_ don't do anything foolish at those meetings," Hermione said, annoyingly brushing away his hand.

He rolled his eyes. "That reminds me, if you're going to tutor him for Divination, We need to make sure you know your stuff instead of looking daft. _I_ can help you with that."

"_Not_ that I would need it," Hermione said, giving him a taste of his cocky attitude, "But I'll hold you to your offer."

"Better not cause me any trouble, Ms. Head Girl," Draco said, lowering his head to gaze at her. He wagged his finger at her like a parent to a child before leaving the classroom.

The next day, Hermione was heading to her Transfiguration class with Patrick. Both had overslept and were going to pay the consequences if they arrived late for class.

"Shortcut through the second floor," Patrick said, motioning to the staircases at the end of the hallway. Hermione followed Patrick, not wishing to be late on her first day as Head Girl. Noticing a figure with blonde hair turning around a corner ahead of them and heading in the same direction she called out, "Draco."

Draco turned around, his face tired, and it didn't seem as if he had slept much either. His hair looked like a hurricane had swept through it, which suited him quite well, oddly enough. The rest of him wasn't any better. She assumed that he'd jumped out of bed and thrown on his robes in about three seconds before leaving. All in all, he looked much like he had for the second half of their last school year when he was working on a way to transport the Death Eaters into the school.

All three started running up the stairs to the second floor when the staircase began to move and landed on the second floor of another part of the building.

"Bugger," Patrick said, kicking the staircase mindlessly when it refused to move again.

They moved off the staircase and searched for another possible way to get to their class.

"There's another way," Draco said, pointing to one of the three corridors in front of them.

He led the way, but they soon heard voices at the end of the hallway. Hermione was sure that one belonged to Rob. The other was awfully familiar, but she couldn't place it.

"You _filthy_ mudblood! How dare you speak to me in that manner," the ruthless voice sneered. Someone started coughing and all Hermione heard was Rob's yelling.

She ran around the corner and found Tom, his wand directly pointed at Rob, who was writhing on the floor.

"_Stop it!_" Hermione screamed and at that exact moment, Tom clutched his right hand. She placed herself in between Tom and Rob, who was coughing up blood on the floor. Her wand was defiantly pointed at Tom, who had acted quickly in response to Hermione's anger by raising his wand, despite the pain in his hand.

Hermione was surprised to see a deep gash across Tom's right hand. It was bleeding profusely.

"No spell, Lioncourt," he said, embracing the pain by tightening his grip on the wand. "_Impressive_." She couldn't believe that she had injured Tom without her wand, but she recovered herself quickly, and gazed back at those dark, rebellious eyes that were presently focused on her.

"There's more where that came from," she whispered heatedly, "I'd suggest that you lower your wand before I enlighten Dippet as to your harassment of muggleborn students."

"Wrong Lioncourt. He's _one_ dirty mudblood," Tom seethed, spitting on Rob over Hermione's back. Before she knew it, her wand was lowered and she found her hand in full contact with Tom's left cheek.

A dark red cloud passed over his eyes, but disappeared rapidly as he lowered his wand and gaped at her with utmost hatred.

"Need I refresh your counting skills, Tom Marvolo Riddle?" Hermione said in a loud, clear voice, emphasizing his last name. His eyes blazed slightly at the sound of his father's name but his wand remained steady. She approached him, until her breath was dancing on the bare of his skin. "I was counting _myself_. That makes _two_."

His eyes widened at the thought of Hermione de Lioncourt, the smartest witch in all his classes, and probably the only student who could approach matching his wits in class, being of mixed blood.

"_De Lioncourt_ is a prominent wizarding family," were the only words he could utter, in confusion and disgust.

"My parents were killed," she said in a trembling voice, ignoring the tears that were gathering in her eyes from knowing that her first statement was the truth, "The de Lioncourts adopted me and gave me their name, passing me off as their own daughter." She hadn't spoken of it for 2 months to anyone, but here she was, announcing to Tom bloody Riddle that she was as alone in the world as him. The Death Eaters had entered her house and killed her parents before she had returned from Hogwarts. The memory of apparating to her house only to find the Dark Mark hovering above it was as clear as if it has been yesterday.

"_Fools_," he said coldly, his face contorted to a haunting resemblance of Lord Voldemort.

"So, here is the _true_ Tom Riddle," Hermione said, mockingly, "If the professors only _knew_ what kind of an arse their sweet Head Boy is."

"You know better than to mention a word about this," Tom threatened, peering at her darkly, "It's my word against yours, and you've only been here a few days. Don't get too smart."

"Stop me," Hermione said, knowing that he wouldn't risk hurting her.

He stared back at her, masking his surprise at her defiance. No one ever stood up to him, encouraging him to hurt them. As long as he could remember, he'd had little trouble controlling others. But this girl dared to stand up to him by looking him fearlessly in the eye and saying those words.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" Hermione said, "Guess this _wouldn't_ be a good time, _especially_ after Kathleen's illness." Her eyes flashed dangerously, knowing that she had gained the upper hand. Something within her was burning, tempting her to take out all her rage on Tom.

"You've gained your worst enemy, Hermione de Lioncourt," he responded firmly, the hatred in his voice mirroring the feeling in his eyes.

"Same to you," Hermione said, shaking not from fear but from her own anger. Putting all her weight on her toes, she lifted herself up to his height and whispered into his ear the same words that she had told him in the library, "It takes _two_ to tango. Bring. It. On."

She moved aside, glancing at Draco, "Can you help me bring him to the hospital wing?"

Tom stood aside, his head jerking in Draco's direction. "A Muggle lover, Devereux?"

"She's like my sister. I've always thought of her as one of our kind and _nothing_ will change that," Draco responded, "Nevertheless, I stand firm in my beliefs."

"Amusing," Tom said, leaving the hallway and knocking into Draco. "Remember my words, De Lioncourt," his voice echoed through the corridor as he left, Hermione and Draco staring at each other.

Hermione dropped to her knees to help Patrick tend to Rob, who was now sitting against the wall. Patrick was now shooting Draco dark looks, which only increased the Slytherin's noticeable discomfort.

"_What_ beliefs, Draco?" Hermione said, trying to keep her voice steady and failing. She helped Rob stand up and gazed perplexedly at Draco.

"See you in class," he responded coldly, glancing over at Rob repulsively and walking away before Hermione could say another word.

Hermione, Patrick, and Rob walked to the hospital wing in silence. Luckily, no students were roaming the hallways and they reached it without any awkward encounters. When they were finally there, Rob spoke up, "You _must_ listen to him, 'Mione."

She glanced up at Rob in wonder. "Tom?"

Rob nodded, "Don't tell Dippet about it."

"You can't let him do that. You can't let him get away with it. You even said at dinner-," she argued with him, not believing that Rob was willing to let Tom go that easily. She glanced at Patrick for support but he seemed to be avoiding her gaze.

"He'll come after me, he will," Rob said, leaning against Hermione for support. "I'm _not_ strong, Hermione. Not like you."

"We can be strong together," Hermione said, grabbing his hand as if not to lose him in the battle against Tom.

"He's right Hermione," Patrick muttered.

"You were amazing out there against him. _Really_," Rob said, offering her a smile. "I can't do that. Thanks for being there, but just do it for me. _Please._ _Don't_ tell anyone."

Hermione looked at Rob's pleading eyes and it hit her. They hated him. They spoke openly of their hate. Yet, deep down they feared him. He was far more intelligent than them and no one knew who he really was but he had already ignited a spark of fear in the students.

He represented the unknown to them, a darkness that was hidden in everyone. His soul was dark, full of hatred and devoid of any love and she had to be the one to tear down his barriers. Even if it would be the last thing she would do.

_K… Curiously, who do you guys want Hermione to land up with? Rob? Hahahah…my friend wanted me to put him in the fic (he wanted to take the bullet for the main character _O.o_). Please review. Thanks!_


	5. Broken

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Harry Potter. Only the plot of this story belongs to me. **_

_I thank _QuothetheRavenNeverMore, Krazi Kelli, Hope, KyootNShort, Lilia Black, mrs skywalker, Foriana, dawn1, EvilDee, encantada, Mrs. Pierre Bouvier, tickle the dragon for reviewing. Thanks once again to encantada for editing.

And to Hope, who asked about the Knights of Walpurgis. Encantada informed me about this… JK Rowling used this name when talking about the history of the Death Eaters. I'm sure you can find more information online XD.

_**CHAPTER 5**_

Hermione never told Dippet. Instead, she would watch Tom resentfully in every class. It had been five days since the incident and life at Hogwarts went on as usual. Tom Riddle was _still_ the _perfect_ Head Boy.

It bothered her tremendously that the students despised him and yet accepted his flawless acting. They bloody feared him. _Why?_ Sure, he was the Dark Lord, but _they _didn't know that!

Consequentially, Hermione had avoided crossing paths with Tom, and ignored his piercing eyes in classes. Perhaps she should have challenged him to a staring contest like their first day but she didn't have the energy. He would probably think she was weak and giving up, but her mind was focused on things besides silly eye games. Unbeknownst to her, this indifference was troubling him more than he would have expected.

Her eyes settled on Draco, who was sitting across from her. Then there was _him_.

He glanced up from his book as if on cue, searching her eyes as if trying to read her thoughts, but she looked away.

She felt alone.

She had thought Draco was with her the whole time. Then just when she thought things were picking up between them, just when she needed him the most he leaves her. The professor dismissed the class and Hermione picked up her book to leave. Separating from her friends, Hermione began the long trek down the empty corridor to the library.

"Hermione, wait up," she heard Draco calling. This only made her increase her speed. His footsteps became louder and more frequent as he approached her, then came to a halt when he laid his hand on her shoulder.

"_Don't_ touch me," Hermione spat, pushing his hand off.

"_Talk_ to me," he said deeply, breathing heavily near her right cheek. She stood her ground, not looking at the person in front of her, nor the students who were passing further away on her right. Instead, she resolutely studied the view from the window on her left.

"Say something, will you?" he said, in a pleading tone that Hermione had never heard from him.

"Sod off," Hermione muttered, but as she made to leave he pulled her back, somewhat unintentionally onto his chest. His warmth made all her anger subside despite her inner struggle. Seeing that she had ceased speaking or fighting against him, his hand slid down her back and around her waist. He reached out for the knob behind him and slowly pulled her into what he hoped was an empty class.

Scanning the room, he found three first year Gryffindors hanging out in a corner. His fingers reached up to caress Hermione's neck, keeping her head buried in his chest.

"Beat it before I get pissed off you stupid buggers," he demanded, pointing to the hallway. The students scurried off without an argument, looking quite petrified of the older Slytherin who probably wanted the empty classroom for a mid-afternoon snog session.

He closed the door gently, then laid his chin on Hermione's head while rubbing her back. He pressed his lips against her hair, inhaling her rich aroma. "Just say something to me… _anything_."

"You're a stupid prat," Hermione said, her voice muffled in his shirt. Her head was on his chest at her own will, but mostly because he smelled so bloody good. His shirt was like getting high off some Axe product. (She lived in the Muggle world; who could blame her for the comparison?) "And I _hate_ you," she added.

"That's better," he said, grinning and pushing her back slightly. He then put on his best pouting face, which was a feat in itself for the great Draco Malfoy. "You don't mean the last part, do you?"

She glanced at him, and the side of her lips started to curve into a smile before becoming serious again. "Why did you ditch me?"

Draco studied the floor with all his might, knowing she would be angrier with him after he explained. He did _not_ want to talk about it. In fact, he wished he never even had to think about it when he was around her.

"When I came here," he said, his voice faltering slightly, "It was for one reason and one only: to destroy Voldemort. I left the Death Eaters but… that doesn't mean I'm completely on your side either."

Her body stiffened against him and she moved away, glaring at him suspiciously.

"I hate the blood and guts," he said, clenching his hands tightly. They felt empty now without her touch. A bit deeper, he continued, "_It doesn't_ mean I love muggles."

"They're _just_ like you, Draco! So what if they're not magical?" Hermione said desperately. "I can't believe you!" Her voice gave out as tears came streaming down her face, and she slumped down to the ground.

"_I'm_ part of them," she breathed, barely loud enough for him to hear.

Draco very nearly felt like throwing himself out the nearest window when he realized he wanted to pull her into his arms. '_What the hell is wrong with me?_' he thought, looking at her lying helplessly on the floor. Her dark curls were scattered over her shoulders. Tears were slipping over her lips, which he realized with a jolt, he wanted desperately to press his against.

_Damn_. She was definitely not the sort of girl he had ever found attractive. Even though her bushy hair was taming a bit, it always seemed to be her last concern. He had never once seen her with any make up, and she was usually wearing her school uniform. In fact, the usual long length of her skirt applied very well to their new time and she never had to worry about looking 'indecent.' Despite all of that, she was simply beautiful to him.

He thought about running his fingers through her hair and over the front of her neck. '_Get a grip on yourself_,' he thought forcefully, kneeling at her side and brushing away her tears with his thumb.

"I still talk to you, don't I?" Draco said softly, "You're the most brilliant witch of our time, and the _only _one capable of giving Tom a run for his money."

Hermione sniffed, her head falling lightly against Draco's shoulder.

"You just have to understand," he explained, "My whole life… I've been taught to hate Muggles. The only people I've been taught to respect are purebloods. It's not something I can change overnight, Hermione." He paused, wondering why he was sharing this with just her. Slytherins, or purebloods for that matter, weren't much for discussing this sort of thing. "There's nothing left for me in this world. My family will disown me and-"

Hermione jumped off him, furious. "What do I have? Did my parents _deserve_ to die? I'm bloody alone as well…"

"You have Potter and Weasley," he said, having resolved to never call his enemies by their first names. He wondered vaguely why it had been so easy with Hermione…

"What happens if Harry can't destroy him?" She gulped, her voice lowering to a whisper as she turned around so as not to face him. "What if we fail?"

"We _won't_ fail," Draco said, though he wasn't even sure if he believed it himself.

"How can you be sure? We _don't_ even know _why_ we're here!" Hermione said in frustration, hugging her legs protectively.

She was right. What _were _they there for?

"Even if we kill him now, _how_ will we get back? It's impossible with the time turner broken, never mind finding one here," succinctly stating all the facts that had been bothering him as well. "What are we supposed to do? Talk him out of becoming the Dark Lord? The way things are going, I see little possibility of _that_ happening."

"I'm _not_ returning," Draco said frankly, prompting Hermione to look at him in shock, "They'll throw me in Azkaban as a conspirator. _Don't_ look at me like that, you know it."

She glanced away, knowing he was right. "Not if you explain-"

"Explaining doesn't cut it," he said, kicking at the table in front of him in a sudden burst of anger.

"I'm _not_ leaving without you," Hermione said, calmly. Without realizing it, she placed her hand over his. He eyed her hand carefully before removing his hand and running his fingers through his hair.

'_You shouldn't be doing this_,' he told himself for the hundredth time. Her hand clutched up into a ball on his lap.

His hand slid over hers of its own accord, entwining his fingers with hers.

"Not with Tom after you," Draco said, shaking his head, "You were really amazing against him, 'Mione. _Impressive_. You never told me you could do that cutting thing-"

"First, Tom and I aren't on speaking terms," she laughed. "Second, I never knew I could do that myself."

"You should be in Slytherin," Draco said, moving his thumb over her hand, "You've really changed… you know that? You're not as bossy. Well not _that_ much. " He smirked at her, tempting her to challenge him.

"Class is starting in ten minutes," she said, lightheartedly punching his shoulder in retaliation.

He was silent for a few seconds before warning her, "You should stay away from Tom Riddle and the other Slytherins."

"You should have told me that before I accepted to live with him," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"Things are _different_ now, Hermione. In fact, I would say that you were safer in our time," he said, looking at her seriously. "After a_ year_ of holding his meetings, Tom revealed himself."

"_What_?" Hermione gasped in horror.

"Don't be surprised to find that he has a lot more _friends_ in the next few days," Draco said, rubbing his temples tiredly.

"Why _now_?" she said, in confusion, "Why _support_ him if they hate him _and_ he's a half blood?"

"They _fear_ him," he replied, an answer that was already apparent to Hermione from the past few days.

"It just doesn't make sense," Hermione said, allowing Draco to put his arm around her.

"You should see the things he can do," he said in a more excited tone, "Even at _our_ age."

Things had definitely taken a turn for the worse if Tom had gained allies. Perhaps she _shouldn't_ have messed around with him so much. But, _someone_ had to stand up to him.

"Please _don't_ fall for him, Draco," Hermione laughed weakly, "Or I'll have a harder time bringing you back."

Draco looked at her insulted for a moment before his features softened, "I would say the same to you if not for recent events. When do you move in?"

" Today," she said, clearly not looking forward to it.

"Need some help?" Draco offered, rising his left knee.

"Wouldn't hurt…especially around him," Hermione uttered thoughtfully. She was only a few hours away from _forced_ contact with the Heir of Slytherin.

"_Don't_ mess around with him. He can make you suffer at the snap of his fingers," Draco said, standing up. "We should head to class."

A few days later, she was sitting in her astronomy class when the professor finally announced what she had been dreading. "Today, I will be assigning you to groups for your astronomy project. You will pick up your topic in front of the class and proceed to discuss it with your partner till the end of the period," the professor said. He worked his way around the class with a hat containing all their names. When he got to Hermione, she was chanting in her head, "Please, _not_ Tom. _Not_ Tom." She reached and pulled out a bronze paper. She could hardly breathe as she unfolded it. Glancing down, she closed her eyes and said resignedly, "_Tom Riddle_."

She didn't bother to look into the dark brown eyes that were staring at her. Rob whispered, "Unlucky day, eh?"

"Tell me about it," Hermione sighed, not at all enjoying the notion of working with the Slytherin Head Boy.

Not only had he threatened her, but now he was constantly surrounded by a small crowd of friends. The girls were all obviously after him, since he was their leader and, Hermione had to admit, one of the more attractive boys in Hogwarts. What made it worse was that this only encouraged other girls to run after him. Before, it seemed as if it was taboo to know him, but now he was quickly becoming one of the most popular students in the school. The worst part was that it had started with only a few people, namely his followers. Then it multiplied like a germ. A few more days and there would be an outbreak of Tom Riddle fan clubs. She could already imagine a sea of black shirts saying '_We love Tom Riddle_.' It wasn't a pleasant vision.

Luckily, she had avoided any run-ins with the Slytherin celebrity while living at the Head Boy and Girl rooms. She had not hadn't seen him since the day that she had moved in…

Flashback… 

She walked into the common room, which would be her home for the rest of the year. Of course, with her luck the last person she wanted to see was seated on the black sofa in front of her. Thankfully, he seemed entranced with his book and didn't even bother to look up.

All right, so maybe moving wouldn't be _that_ bad.

"'Mione," Draco whined, as he struggled through the entrance with her trunk. "How many clothes did you buy?" If either of them had been paying attention, they would have noticed the hand holding Tom's book twitch ever so slightly.

"They're books," Hermione retaliated, holding out her wand "Besides, you needn't suffer suffer so," Hermione chided, casting a simple _wingardium leviosa_."

The trunk was forced out of Draco's hands and traveled to the far end of the room, where a door was decorated with Ravenclaw's emblem.

"It's part of my workout for the team," Draco shot back, ignoring Hermione's exasperated face when he mentioned Quidditch.

"Seeker, is that right, Devereux?" Tom said, directly behind Hermione. She jumped about a mile.

'C_reep_,' Hermione thought, shuddering. He reminded her horribly of Dracula with his amazing good looks, ability to charm people off their feet, and this spooky way of popping up in different places without notice.

"That's right," Draco said, looking Tom in the eye.

"Hmmm," was the only response from Tom as he scrutinized Draco from head to toe, and then turned to Hermione, "_De Lioncourt_."

She turned to him, a haughty look on her face, waiting to hear what he wanted to say.

"A _few_ rules. Our rooms are on opposite sides for a reason and the less I have to see your face, the _better_. Seeing as we have the _misery_ of sharing the same bath area, I take my showers at seven in the morning. Suit yourself with any time _after_ that," Tom ordered, not even waiting for her response as he left.

Ohhhhhhhh, if the daggers she was mentally hurling into his back had any potency, Tom Marvolo Riddle would be a dead man.

"_Oh yes_," Tom said, whisking around as his hand touched the doorknob of his room. In a voice that could have been a demon's, it was so soft, he said, "I _hate_ being disturbed, _especially_ at night." He glanced over at Draco, nodding. "_Devereux._"

So he wasn't Dracula. Simply the opposite of a bloodsucker but still not very far from it, at least as far as Hermione was concerned.

"Riddle," Draco replied, nodding in return.

Tom finally entered his room, shutting the door with hardly a sound and leaving Hermione stunned and out of breath.

"That stupid _git_," Hermione said, groaning loudly, "I _knew_ it would be signing my death warrant agreeing to live with _him_."

"Let's hope not," Draco whispered as he picked up one of the nearby boxes.

_**End of flashback**_

"Not paying attention, de Lioncourt?" said a cold voice, settling into the seat by hers. She realized with a start that the students had begun meeting with their partners.

_Hence_, the partner beside her.

"Let's get this straight, de Lioncourt," Tom said condescendingly, I'll finish the project and save myself from working with a worthless mudblood. You can run about your business."

"You really need to improve your vocabulary, Tom. It's getting a bit _old_," Hermione said, stifling a yawn, "Oh yes… and while you're at it, guess I'll let the professors know what you think of your partner."

"Didn't you hear me the last time when I said-" he began, his eyes gleaming like the midnight sky, when he was rudely interrupted.

"Empty threats, Tom," Hermione said, keeping her voice steady to avoid attracting attention. "And if you think I'm going to bow down to you like the other students, you're wrong. What makes you think that you can playaround with _me_? Guess what? I refuse to be a pawn in your little game. For once in your life, stop acting and show everyone the _real_ you and see if you can be _accepted_. You are _nothing_ but a _fake_."

"You don't know anything about me," Tom hissed, breaking the end of his quill against his parchment.

"Really? Prove me wrong," Hermione said, indignantly.

"_Don't_ tell me what to do," Tom said, leaning towards her. He was only a few inches away now, and his breath was warm on her face. She abruptly forced herself out of her seat.

Suddenly, all the windows in the class began breaking sequentially, starting on the opposite side of the class. Several students ducked under tables to avoid injury. When it got around to Hermione's side of the class, she refused to cower behind anything since she knew it was a result of Tom's anger. She knew that she would be injured though. She was too close to a window to hope otherwise. When the explosions stopped, the students looked at each other anxiously and the professor made an effort to calm them down.

If anyone had looked to the far right of the classroom, they would have seen Tom staring fiercely at Hermione as she remained standing, the only person who had refused to hide. Hermione blinked and was shocked to find herself completely unscathed.

Behind her was the only window that remained intact.

**_YAY! Cliffhanger… there is some key information here…muahahahha. The cliffhangers will only be getting worst from now on… hopefully._**

_**Thanks for reading and please review!**_


	6. Linger

**Disclaimer:** The only thing I own in this story is the plot. The rest belongs to JK Rowling.

_**Very interesting comments from everyone! I'm sorry it took long to update…. **_

_**I would like to thank the following people for reviewing… Queen of the Badgers, Drakelle-Leathley, -Lacus-Serenity-, DemonDaughter, Mrs Pierre Bouvier, tigress12, Slytherinchick 101, Reanne 102, An Unsanitary Dream, curlyque, Curse Weaver, mrs skywalker, Floriana, KyootNShort, Infectiously Depressing and encantada. **_

_**CHAPTER 6**_

Hermione strolled through the library, focusing on the numbers stamped on the shelves. The Potions professor had assigned her advanced projects for extra credit and she had accepted, since it would be a good way to keep her mind off recent occurrences. Everyone had been in an uproar after hearing about the windows shattering in the astronomy class. Of course, the time required to fix them was nothing compared to the gossip spreading at all four house tables. Different versions of the story were heard all over, but none were anywhere near the truth. Hermione knew that it had been caused by Lord Voldemort, or as the students and staff knew him… _Tom Riddle._

Only three people knew this. Tom himself, Hermione, and Draco. Draco had devotedly listened to Hermione's story, but he was similarly confused about how the window behind her had remained unbroken. Perhaps Tom had been protecting himself? Both quickly dismissed the notion as unlikely.

She was still hearing fabricated stories two days later, and some from students who hadn't even been anywhere near the class when it happened.

"Aye, you should have seen it," said a second year Hufflepuff proudly. "I was there and the students began revolving around the class with all these golden balls and…"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the absurdity of the student's story and his wide-eyed friends who believed every single word. Continuing her search, she glanced down at the card in her hands.

'The Twelve Uses of Dragon Blood'

Her eyes shifted to the bookshelves, where she tried to match the number on her card. The tip of her index finger slid across the titles as she tried to find the one she desired.

XP107

XP108

Her finger had barely reached the book when it was snatched off the shelf by a pale hand with long thin fingers. Her eyes followed the length of the arm and came to rest on the face of a slightly bemused Tom Riddle.

"Oh, do _you_ need this?" he asked in an innocent voice. For the first time in the several weeks since she had met him, his face turned almost angelic. Sadly, she didn't have time to cherish the moment, as a devilish grin spread on his lips and his eyes glistened darkly in the poorly lit section of the library.

"_Only_ copy in the library, how _unfortunate_," he purred. He smirked at her, spinning around and walking to the librarian's desk to check out the book.

"Bugger. Stupid wanker," Hermione muttered, wishing she could take several books and hammer them against his head repeatedly. Well, he seemed like he was in a rush. So much so that once again, she hadn't even had time to form a retort.

She jumped when a tug on her sleeve interrupted her flow of thoughts.

"Come on, Hermione," said Cornelia, pulling her out of the library.

"_Where_ are you taking me?" Hermione asked, as she was dragged across the school and out to the grounds. Honestly, she was beginning to wonder if Cornelia made a habit of hiding behind bookshelves waiting to pounce on innocent victims like herself.

They headed to the top of the Quidditch benches where several students had gathered, especially girls.

"Slytherin's Quidditch practice," Cornelia answered, after an eternity.

"And _why_, may I ask, are we here?" Hermione asked, looking pretentiously at the nearby girls who seemed ready to go the full distance and throw themselves overboard in order to be rescued by a gorgeous Quidditch player, who was probably not interested.

As if on cue, a Gryffindor said, "I bet I can get the Captain."

"I'm leaving," Hermione said, obviously disgusted.

She watched as the flyers came onto the field, which prompted Cornelia to ask, "But don't you want to see Draco play?"

Hermione nearly smacked herself, and thanked Cornelia for dragging her along. Perhaps she was slightly better off than the other girls. She actually knew one of the people trying out.

She watched as the captain came to the front. He was supposedly one of the Beaters on the team and in Hermione's opinion, the position suited his sour face very well. They had to wait through several open positions before it was finally the seeker tryout. Charles Black wasted no time, and intentionally pulled some stunning moves directly in front of Hermione. But lost in her own thoughts, his intended target didn't notice until Cornelia mentioned it. It would have shocked Hermione even more had she known that at least two other guys waiting below were growing more jealous with every magnificent move Charles performed. But then, they had the slight consolation that Hermione wasn't paying the slightest attention to him.

At the same time, it wasn't as if she were looking at them either. The candidates for Seeker approached the captain for instructions. They then all moved to the far left of the field and waited their turns. Draco was the next to the last person to go and he had obviously beat out the other competition within a few minutes. The entire crowd applauded his efforts and the girls cheered wildly. Hermione was very proud of him, knowing it would mean a lot to him to make the team.

The last competitor was using the same broom as Draco. Hermione hadn't bothered to get a good look at him. From the shrieks of the Slytherin girls, he was probably some charming, handsome boy with a hard head and lots of ready cash. She leaned forward and gazed dully at the ground below. At that moment, the same boy swept past her so quickly that she was surprised she hadn't fallen forward. Her hair was still blowing in the air, electrified by his flying speed. She backed away from the edge and searched the skies for him. There was no doubt about it. If Draco had any competition, here it was. Ironically, this mystery student was using much the same flying style as Harry, who had always been the Slytherin's nearest rival in Quidditch. Hermione saw Draco's blank expression as he watched his new rival fly through the trials at lightning speed. The captain was impressed and clearly blown away as he timed the dark haired student. Hermione squinted her eyes, trying to figure out who it was.

She desperately wanted to ask Cornelia if she knew. Looking around, she found her friend talking to a few students a bit farther down when the girls near her began yelling and frantically moving away.

She looked back ahead, only to find the snitch floating a few inches away. Everything happened so quickly that Hermione had no time to breathe. Someone slammed into her and she flew backwards into the stands.

Slowly opening her eyes, she found an arm snaked around her body, holding the snitch as tight as if it were his own soul. Hermione gulped, realizing quire suddenly that she was lying directly on top of the player's body. '_Oh dear_,' Hermione thought, '_Must get out of this position. Quickly_.'

He was completely surrounded by darkness. Then again, when did he ever see anything with his eyes closed? What was going on? His left arm was killing him… all he remembered was reaching for the snitch and suddenly being distracted. He felt as though a great weight had been placed on him but it was radiating a comfortable warmth, which was easing the pain that had erupted in his arm. Maybe this explained why he didn't want to move or otherwise disturb whatever was providing such an unfamiliar comfort.

But shortly, the warmth began to leave him and all his senses came crashing back. He felt a hand brush against his as a soft voice whispered his name. He groaned in pain, grasping on to the hand that had touched him and refusing to let it go.

For the first time, he didn't sense any pain from the contact of another's hand.

He began to hear Ning, the Slytherin captain, calling his name. Tom's eyes fluttered for a few moments and finally opened, but not without some misery. He glanced up at Hermione in confusion. She refused to look him in the eye, and instead stared down at his hand, which was gripping hers tightly. He suddenly realized what he was doing and yanked his hand away as if hers was burning him.

"That was brilliant flying, Tom," Ning said, clapping his hands. 'Had me worried for a second though mate; feeling alright?"

He noticed Hermione moving away from the others, who were gazing at him admirably. Devereux and a girl from Ravenclaw seemed worried about her after the accident. She stood away from the group with them, brushing off the wood chips that decorated her robes. He began to stand up, careful not to put any pressure on his left arm.

"How's your arm? It doesn't look so good…" one of the team hopefuls commented, a little too hopefully.

Tom gritted his teeth. "It's perfectly _fine_."

"Maybe you _should _stop by the hospital wing…" Ning suggested quietly, as Tom handed him the snitch.

Tom grimaced. He detested the hospital wing, mostly because he hated spending nights there. If there was anything he hated about Hogwarts, it was being locked up in some cage by people who forced potions down your throat to make you feel better. It reminded him of his youth at the orphanage. All the weakness…

He was constantly surrounded by weak, unintelligent people.

_Except for her. _

Hermione had successfully cleaned off her robes, then walked over to where two large, distinct groups of girls had congregated. One belonged to Tom and the other, which had fewer Slytherins, was still only slightly smaller than Tom's fan club.

Little did she know, Tom was watching her intensely, and remaining largely indifferent to his fans' attentions. She waited barely a minute before Draco excused himself from all his admirers to see her.

"Congrats!" Hermione said excitedly, jumping to hug him. "That was an amazing tryout."

_Amazing_? She was the _only_ person in the crowd who hadn't complimented his flying and she was _congratulating_ Devereux!

Draco grimaced in disappointment. "It's _not_ Seeker."

Tom grinned inwardly, proud that he'd retained his formerposition.

"You'll be a _wonderful_ Keeper," Hermione said cheerfully. "You'll put all the others to shame."

Tom couldn't believe it. He was gripping his broom so tightly that he expected it to break at any moment. How could she still compliment him even after Devereux _didn't_ get the position?

Tom watched as Hermione called after Charles Black, who was walking past her with his head lowered. He gazed at her expectantly like a pathetic, lovesick puppy.

"Congrats for getting the position! You did a great job," she said, probably doing more harm to Charles Black's sanity than was strictly necessary. He wondered what Black or certain other students would think if they knew she was a Muggle. He _could_ blackmail her if she thought so highly about her reputation among the Slytherins. Yet he strongly suspected that it would be of no consequence.

Hermione de Lioncourt was not one to be toyed with so easily. Perhaps that was why he hadn't yet informed anyone of her blood. She was definitely someone he was keeping an eye on. Besides, it had really been too long since he'd had a proper amusement apart from Dumbledore.

The next day, Hermione found herself flying on a broom over the Quidditch field.

"_Hermione_!" yelled Harry, flying rapidly in her direction. "You've gotta catch the snitch or we'll never kill Voldemort!"

Huhhhhh? She nearly knocked herself over her head with her broom to wake herself from this weird dream, but realized that would _not _be such a good idea if she were sixteen meters off the ground. Out of nowhere, Tom appeared and threw something in the air.

"What the hell?" Hermione said, confused. Everything beside her seemed to be moving in slow motion as Harry cried out.

"_Hermione, the snitch!_" he pointed towards the falling object. Without hesitating, Hermione followed Harry's instructions, despite how absurd they seemed. Luckily for her, she had greatly improved her Quidditch skills in la la land and was able to grab the snitch. However when Hermione finally got a better look… it wasn't a snitch at all.

It was a ring.

"Miss Granger, your time is up," Tom told her, except in a female voice. She stared perplexedly at him, quite certain she was going out of her mind.

She was forcefully thrown back to reality and found the librarian patting her back to wake her up. "Miss Granger, it's eleven. I'm afraid that you must return to your room," Miss Combs informed her lightly.

Hermione sighed, knowing that she had once again fallen asleep over her books. Keeping up with Tom Riddle was definitely a hard task and demanded a lot of effort. If it hadn't been for the fact that Hermione lived with the person in question, she would have happily studied in the library provided for the Head Girl and Boy.

The librarian escorted her out of the library and wished her goodnight before locking the doors. She strolled the empty halls of Hogwarts wondering about what Ron and Harry might be doing in her own time. She missed them both and would have loved to have them on this mission with her. Hermione frowned at this thought.

A few weeks ago, the thought of Draco coming with her had been a nightmare. That had changed. He was the same Malfoy she had known at school. Many students _still_ considered him someone of high authority and not to be messed with. Hermione grinned to herself, knowing that Draco avoided picking on people when she was around. It was probably because she was Head Girl and had threatened him several times. But people feared him and would stay away from him to avoid getting on his bad side.

_Splash. Splash. Splash_.

Hermione looked down and found a puddle of water streaming along the floor. "What the--" She glanced at her feet, and suddenly remembered something.

_It couldn't be. _

He had already opened the Chamber of Secrets, and he had only done it once.

She fearfully put her fingertips against the wall. Although it was quite faint, Hermione sensed some movement somewhere further along. Her face paled as she backed away from the wall, grasping her wand tightly.

_Run_, was the only word on her mind.

And so she did, not knowing exactly where she was going. She decided it was best to head for the professors' rooms.

How could she have been so stupid?

She had clearly become Tom's enemy, and it didn't help that he knew she was a Muggleborn. He had opened the Chamber of Secrets to kill her. She was nearly out of breath when a loud sound erupted behind her, forcing her to speed up. There was obviously something behind her now. She heard it lash out, making her fall to her feet.

What could she do now? She saw the shadow of the snake as it tried to approach but it was hindered, and fell forward. She kept her eyes on the floor since the basilisk was in front of her and fell forwards, only to be caught by a person. She froze completely in the person's rigid arms. Why weren't they casting any spells? One hand covered her eyes and she heard the low whisper of Tom's voice. "Don't look in front."

She was turned around rapidly, and found Tom standing there. One hand stroked her neck while the other kept his wand pointed at her.

Stamping him on his feet, she backed away form him, "What are you playing at, Tom?"

"Don't be foolish," he hissed.

She heard the Basilisk moving around violently behind her.

'_Great_,' she thought sarcastically. 'It doesn't _like_ when its master is injured.' She would have to work a miracle if she was to avoid the grizzly death that had been planned for her.

Tom grimaced fiercely at Hermione before opening his mouth.

It was Parseltongue.

This was _bad_.

_Very_ bad indeed.

_**Eek… I know this chapter is pretty short… but I'm going according to the endings lol….Which probably means that ch. 7 will be up sooner. Please review! Enjoy the Harry Potter movie!**_


	7. Good and Evil

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this chapter besides the plot. Don't sue me… I need pay tuition. . _

**_Thanks to twilight elf-maiden, Queen of the Badgers, Reanne1102, KyootNShort, angryazngirl, dawn1, An Unsanitary Dream, Lilia Black, imissNCL, logansgurl, DemonDaughter, luv sean faris, Drakelle-Leathley, Mrs. Pierre Bouvier, mrs skywalker. Once again, thanks to encantada for editing!_**

_CHAPTER 7_

Tom continued speaking in Parseltongue, his face contorted with anger. The basilisk was slithering angrily behind her. Without looking at the snake, she could tell that it was huge from its shadow. Hermione glanced at the last Slytherin, feeling that something was entirely wrong.

'_It shouldn't take long to tell it to kill me_,' Hermione thought, although she was very grateful to still be alive. She became even more bewildered when Tom took a few steps towards her.

"_Stay away_ from me," Hermione said coldly, as his left hand reached out for her. She took a few steps backwards, but knew that she would eventually find herself entirely too close to an unhappy basilisk.

Two angry, murderous snakes…which was better?

"Go on then… Kill me," Hermione found herself saying, boldly. He reached out and pulled her roughly against him without hesitation.

"I'm _not_ planning to kill you," Tom muttered in her ear, "Never was. But s_top_ making assumptions before you _get_ yourself killed."

"That's complete crap!" Hermione screamed, struggling to escape his tight grip.

He grabbed her chin sharply. "You think I'm lying, de Lioncourt? I'll gladly hand you over as dinner if the answer is _yes_." His dark eyes peered at her mysteriously. She stopped moving and gazed back at him. His face was malicious, yet his eyes showed a softness she'd never seen before. A glimmer of hesitation appeared but dissolved rapidly as he glanced past her shoulder.

His eyes returned to hers. "Follow my instructions, de Lioncourt." His thumb slid below her right and left eyes. Never had she expected to be touched so gently by the man she had grown to hate and fear. The whole moment seemed utterly surreal

He looked deeply into her eyes once again and for some odd reason, _she_ _understood_. Although he couldn't say it in words, he was asking her to trust him. Inhaling deeply, she buried her head in his chest as he whispered, "Don't open your eyes or look up." As if to assure himself that it was done, he laid his hand over her head and began speaking to the basilisk.

The future Lord Voldemort was _saving_ her.

She began to shake uncontrollably in fear as everything became silent and she felt a large something moving against her. Tom held her even more tightly and she was quite certain she would have already pierced his back with her nails if it weren't for his thick robes.

Finally, Tom yelled fiercely in Parseltongue. The basilisk let out a wild hiss before retreating. She felt Tom's head lower against hers, murmuring, "It's gone." His lips brushed against her ears, and she shuddered.

She slowly released her grip on him and stepped away.

"I'll walk you back to our rooms," he said, his face much paler than before.

She nodded and they walked back silently. Didn't she now have proof that he was responsible for Myrtle's death? She could possibly bring Hagrid back…

Except the Heir of Slytherin had saved her life.

Her mission had become far more difficult if she was obligated to him.

"Goodnight," Tom muttered faintly, as he walked away to his room.

"Tom," she called. He stopped in his place but didn't turn around. "Thank you."

He nodded and left her standing at the portrait to her room.

The next day, Draco approached Hermione while she was having lunch. Coincidentally, Tom was standing nearby. He hadn't acknowledged last night's events apart from looking quite ghostly. He'd avoided speaking to Hermione, but would throw dark glances at the staff table as though he expected an attack at any moment. She could have sworn that he had a deadly grip on his wand the entire time he'd been in the Great Hall today. What disturbed Hermione the most was that he didn't seem nervous about being caught, but rather appeared ready to defend himself.

"_Where_ were you last night?" Draco asked, oblivious to Tom's sudden interest in their conversation.

Hermione hit her head in frustration, remembering that she had planned to meet with Draco.

"I fell asleep at the library," she explained truthfully.

Draco looked at her suspiciously. "_That's all?"_

"Yes… then I went _straight_ to my room," Hermione finished, steadily looking Draco in the eye. Tom smirked and continued to the Slytherin table, satisfied for the moment with her answer.

That evening, Hermione sent Draco a message to meet her with the same coin system she'd devised for the DA. When she reached the Room of Requirement, Draco was sipping a butterbeer thoughtfully and slouching against the wall.

"You're _late_," he said frankly.

"_Excuse_ _me_ your royal highness," Hermione said sarcastically, "I had to finish something."

"Aye, well, I also have things to do. _Can't_ be waiting up for you _all_ the time," Draco muttered arrogantly.

"Fine. If you don't care what I have to say, then you can just leave," Hermione said, irritated with the re-emergence of the old Malfoy.

"It's a joke," he said, groaning and hitting his head against the wall. "I didn't mean it that way…It just feels like we aren't _getting _anywhere." He paused to collect himself. "He hasn't even held any meetings since we last talked."

"Well I'm not surprised. He's been too busy reopening the Chamber of Secrets," she said, in a monotone.

"WHAT! That's _impossible_!" Draco exclaimed, refusing to believe it.

"The basilisk was after me," Hermione said, then explained what really happened after she'd left the library. She recounted every detail, including how Tom had saved her.

She was expecting Draco to be at least _slightly_ thankful that she was still alive, but was instead surprised at his tactless reaction. "This is _not_ supposed to happen." He was clearly annoyed, "_Why_ did he save you?"

"I'm glad he did it, _thank_ _you_ _very_ _much_," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. At the very least, he could have been considerate enough to ask how she was…Then again, he _was _a guy. They _all_ seemed to inherently lack the ability to react _properly_.

"Unless he'd planned to attack you… I mean, _who_ walks around randomly in the library wing at _that_ time of night!" Draco said, rubbing his temples to think more clearly.

"Then _why_ would he suddenly change his mind?" She was trying to put the pieces together, but failing miserably.

"It's more like _what_ changed his mind. _What_ did you say to him?" Draco asked, pacing around the room.

"Nothing," Hermione shrugged, watching Draco's incessant movement.

"It _can't_ be nothing," he said, confidently. "The Dark Lord doesn't go around saving muggleborns in his spare time."

Hermione knew he was right. It was exactly what she'd been thinking all night.

She just didn't _want_ to think about it.

Maybe there was something more to how he'd held her while the basilisk approached? Or the way he'd covered her head so she wouldn't be petrified or killed?

Or he was _only_ trying to save himself from being expelled.

Then _why_ didn't he threaten her and warn her not to tell the staff?

There were so many unanswered questions. She'd been so sure last night that he'd looked at her in that way, and how his fingers brushed away her tears… The more she thought about it, the more she doubted her sanity.

It was all wrong.

It _had_ to be.

"There's obviously something you're not telling me," Draco said frigidly, "I suggest that _you_ sort out your problems with Tom…"

"_What_?" Hermione said, offended by Draco's tone more than his words.

He packed his bag and approached the door. "I have a date. See you tomorrow."

_Men_. They're so complicated.

"Today you will be practicing dueling with your partners," Professor Merrythought, their Defense professor said, "Mr. Riddle, can you bring me the box on my desk?"

Tom nodded and carried the heavy box to a nearby desk with some difficulty. Not even he could hide the pain illustrated so clearly on his usually rigid face.

"Students, please choose your partners from the slips in the box. I have spared

Mr. Riddle and Miss de Lioncourt the task of choosing a partner. They will be giving us a demonstration since they received the top marks on the last essay," Merrythought continued, encouraging students to start choosing their partners.

'I never thought I'd regret doing well on a test,' Hermione thought bitterly. She cursed herself while approaching Tom as the other students gathered around the box.

He didn't acknowledge her when she sat beside him. "You should get your arm checked," Hermione said quietly, regretting it as soon as the words left her mouth. Why did she care?

"_It's fine_," Tom said roughly, giving her a scornful look.

"Then why'd you have so much trouble carrying that box?" Hermione in a matter of fact voice.

"I don't need you looking after me, mudblood," Tom said, gritting his teeth, "Save that for Devereux."

She had _not_ expected Draco's name to come up. They hadn't been speaking since she'd told him about the basilisk incident, which was a week ago now. Hermione had _no_ clue what had been stuck up his arse lately.

"_Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh_, that's right. You two haven't been talking, isn't that true?" Tom said, his devilish grin firmly in place.

"That's none of your business," Hermione said but she knew that he was right. Their spat had become so bad that Draco would hardly look at her, much less speak to her unless required.

"Then I can say the same to you," Tom rebutted, bringing his face nearer to Hermione's. She could feel his breath on her lips. "So shut your trap."

"Miss de Lioncourt, Mr. Riddle, will you please start the demonstration?" The professor seemed quit unaware of the tension now crackling between the head students. Hermione pushed herself up from her seat and stood opposite of Tom.

His eyes held all the intensity of a verbal death threat. She wondered if he was regretting saving her. She would definitely be hibernating in her room the rest of the week… although the enemy slept in the next room. This could be quite problematic… She bowed to him, keeping her eyes glued on those dark threatening brown eyes.

Before he had completely risen, he yelled "_Tarantallegra_!"

"_Protego_!" Hermione screamed, having a shield charm barely protect her. "_Avis_! _Oppugno!_"

A flock of small birds with pointed beaks swarmed towards Tom to attack, but were thrown back with a clear jet of water from Tom's _Aguamenti_ charm.

"_Rictusempra_!" Tom articulated with his usual calm delivery

Hermione was caught off guard as the spell hit her right after the flood of water.

She began rolling on the floor in laughter but managed to point her wand at Tom. "_Furnunculus!_"

Tom deflected the spell easily, taunting her, "You're right de Lioncourt; you really _do _needhelp in defense."

Hermione's eyes narrowed in anger. She was now so completely focused on dueling with Tom that she didn't hear the professor yelling at them to stop, nor did she notice that a student had been injured by her last spell.

"_Flagrate_!" Hermione screamed angrily, causing Tom to jump as a fiery mark was made across his robes.

He raised his head and cried out, "_Mobilicorpus_!"

Hermione was sent flying across the room and tumbled down on a bunch of desks. A sharp pain shot through her right leg, eliciting a sharp gasp as she reflexively caught hold of it.

Tom was opening his mouth to cast another spell when a voice roared, "_Expelliarmus_!" The wand would have surely left Tom's hand if it weren't for his fast reflexes. His head jerked up and he found Draco furiously pointing his wand at him while other students watched in astonishment.

"Enough is enough!" Merrythought roared angrily, finally stepping between them.

A strong arm wrapped around Hermione's waist, pulling her up. She saw Tom recovering from her last spell, trying to loosen up his still smoldering robes. Her right arm slid down her leg, which was still throbbing painfully. She stared down at it, frustrated.

"Did he hurt you?" Draco asked, wrapping his arms around her waist for support.

She casually leaned back against him and nodded. 'I _shouldn't_ have let it go that far,' she cursed to herself. She cringed apologetically, as Merrythought sent a student to the infirmary, his face covered in boils.

"_That was uncalled for_!" exclaimed the professor, looking at them both in turn. "You two are Head students! I'm shocked at your behavior! Both of you took it _too_ far."

"Don't you two just love each other," Draco said dismally, after Merrythought had given Hermione and Tom a detention.

Hermione grimaced at him, watching as he left without another word. Of course, why _wouldn't _she love spending every waking moment with her good old pal, Lord Voldie? She would be shocked if he didn't kill her during their detention and kiss up to the professors' arses to cover it up.

It was going to be a _very_ long week.

_Yay! Me really hope you likes it. Lol. I'm suffering from writer's block… but not for long. Hopefully heheheh. Well at least I didn't end with a cliffhanger! Except I can say that in the next chapter, Hermione and Tom will be together for detention ;)_

_**May contain Spoilers from movie**…_

_The HP movie was good but didn't really follow the book properly. sigh I sooooo wanted to see that scene where Draco sees Hermione at the ball! Damn…_


	8. We're going down

_**Disclaimer: Anything that you recognize in this story from the 'Harry Potter'series is not mine. **_

_I am soooooo sorry that I haven't updated this fic in so long. School was really hectic and programming for several late nights didn't help. Luckily I'll have more time now…well since I don't have a job lol. I got layed off before I started working eek. Well at least it wasn't my fault and now I'm looking for a new job for my work term sigh. Anyhow enough about me, there should be more updates from now on. I promise. If I don't, I give you permission to bother me about it by emailing me :) . Thanks to KDTheRavenclaw for editing._

**_Read and Review my sweeties! Besides, I might be so bored that I'll try out that new thing where you can respond to reviews lol. _**

**Chapter 8**

Hermione struggled all the way to the hospital wing. Today was destined to be the worst day of her week. She was forced to deal with the two Slytherin princes back to back. It was only after Draco's accident during a Hufflepuff game that she realized it was time to end his relentless juvenile attitude towards her. Besides, they were there on a mission regardless of their differences.

She glanced over to the far end of the hospital wing where the trademark Malfoy hair shone brightly in the sun with his head propped by several pillows. She approached hesitantly, wondering if she should save her visit for another day. She placed some Hogsmeade treats on the night table.

His face was more serene than usual and she allowed her eyes to wander to his lips and grinned to herself.

He even smirked while asleep.

"What do you _want_, Hermione?" his voice sneered, startling her.

"Don't do that!" she yelled, slapping him on the arm. His grin turned into a nasty frown. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"I fear to sleep in case people stop by with any _suspicious_ treats," Draco said, gazing at the goodies she had brought as if they were poisoned.

"_You're welcome_," Hermione barked, already not amused with his attitude. She slumped down on the chair next to his bed. Consequently, he cleared his throat loudly.

"Did I _say_ you could sit _there_?" he said harshly to her.

"What's gotten into you? Unless you've forgotten, we've come here for a reason," she hissed at him.

"It did _not_ involve you falling for the Dark Lord," he sneered, forcing himself off the bed to look at her angrily.

She picked up the box of goods angrily, "I don't bloody like him. I don't know how you got those ideas."

"He saved you, Mione," Draco said, bitterly.

"After trying to attack me!" she said haughtily.

He had definitely lost it. There was no other way to explain it.

She wondered if they would accept him at St. Mungo's….

"You have no bloody idea what it means," he said frustratingly, holding his head in his hands.

"Until you can think more clearly, I won't even bother arguing with you Draco Malfoy," she said in a low whisper in his ear.

"_Fine_!" he said rather immaturely but he didn't care.

"_FINE_," she screamed at him, throwing the chocolates at him, "HOPE YOU FEEL BETTER." She turned around and stalked out of the room without another look back. Hermione rolled her eyes from thinking of how they ended their little encounter so childishly.

Draco took a few heavy breaths before slamming his fist into the table. He could not believe why she had to be so stubborn and yet he clutched her gift and card dearly.

Tom walked quickly followed by a limping Hermione to the northside of the lake where they were to serve their 'intense' punishment by gathering asphodel for the herbology professor.

Most students considered their duel as an insignificant fight between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. A very select few, such as Cornelia and Draco saw the cool drift between Hermione and Tom.

Cornelia thought that the former had definitely chosen the wrong Slytherin to mess with. She didn't miss the looks Tom had sent Hermione when she wasn't paying attention. Or how about the fact that Hermione was the only person these days who could argue with Tom Marvolo Riddle without having some Slytherin at their neck? These days, Tom had too many followers…

Draco, on the other hand, was overwhelmed by their behavior for another reason. He did not mind their constant bickering, as long as both she and her hate for Tom remained fully alive.

The only thought that ran through his mind as he sat in an isolated room on a cold, breezy November afternoon were a few words communicated to him before traveling to the past.

The _only_ words that he kept repeating were, "_It's impossible_."

Hermione glanced at the asphodel. It was a plant commonly associated with the underworld and the afterlife and hence it was no surprise that it was used in the Draught of Living Death. She knew that it would be a pain to gather it after hurting her ankle. She hadn't thought that it was serious enough to go to the infirmary and lose a day of school.

"I suggest that this should be completed in thirty minutes," Tom said, reminding Hermione that the professor had not given them a time limit. "I have Quidditch practice."

Hermione snickered, "Merlin help you to catch the snitch with that injury."

Tom growled loudly in frustration. He gave her a dirty face for bringing up the matter once again.

"You never stop, do you?" You're the one who got us in this mess so I suggest that you shut up."

"Me?" Hermione said angrily, watching Tom through narrowed eyes.

"Yes, _you_," Tom barked, throwing his basket aside as he descended to collect some asphodel.

"If you were _not_ so stubborn about that arm…" Hermione said roughly, flinging her basket to the ground and mirroring Tom's action. The Herbology professor would be lucky to find the plants in any decent shape besides a slaughtered state.

"_Me, stubborn_? You're the one who cannot accept that _I am_ the _better_ student in class. You should quit your measly attempts to compete with me," Tom said, forcefully punching the basket with the new bunch gathered.

"You may be the best student but at least I _don't_ kiss my professor's arses and have a pathetic life," Hermione said without thinking. As soon as the darkness rose in his eyes, she began to cower. With one swift move he wrenched her arm towards him roughly. She moaned in pain as he threw her on the ground. The tears started to flow rapidly.

"_Pathetic_, de Lioncourt," Tom repeated, glowering over her body. He pushed her arms against the cold damp ground as he lowered his body on her while imprisoning her waist between his legs.

"I should have sacrificed your _pathetic _life last night. Which makes me wonder de Lioncourt, _if_ that is your name… _why_ didn't you tell the staff?" he asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione said, trying to keep her face expressionless, "I owe you my life."

"There's more to you de Lioncourt and I'll find out," Tom hissed, drawing her up from the ground roughly and shoving the basket at her.

"_Why Tom?_ Am I the _first_ person that isn't crawling on my knees for you? Damn you Tom Riddle cause I never cared about beating you in class. What are you scared of?"

She glared at him, leaving the question to the wind. He couldn't afford to tell her. He had worked so hard to get to this point and he wasn't looking back. It _was_ time for him to reveal the Heir of Slytherin to the magical world.

He gazed at her speechlessly and for the first time in weeks, he was able to place everything about her in a more enlightened perspective. For weeks he was convinced that she was playing mind games with him. For his first six years, he had breezed through all his courses and advanced projects.

Then she came along.

Everything was not simple.

He watched her constantly in class but couldn't figure it out. As she waited for his response, her chest was heaving and her loud ragged breaths bothered him so much. He wanted to lock her up. _Worse_. He wanted to feed her to his Basilisk. She was nothing but a _dirty_ Muggle. She was _weak_. Her tears were streaked across her face and her hair was in an absolute mess with the wind and mud.

Yet she stood up to him. Despite his insults, she never backed down from him _Why_ was she concerned about his arm even after all he had done to that mudblood friend of hers? Why couldn't she understand that they both stood on opposite grounds?

She was a Muggleborn. Nonetheless, she remained on his mind for weeks without end. She did everything that was beyond logical to him.

That's _why_ he feared her.

"What are you afraid of?" she repeated loudly, "Can't you just accept that someone might not fear you but actually care," she gulped, looking away and not understanding why she had said it.

"I have Quidditch practice, mudblood," he reminded her coldly, stuffing the basket in her arms. She cradled her right wrist. What came next he hardly had expected. She slapped him roughly across his face.

"Don't you dare touch me again," she said, walking away from him.

There would be no public embarrassment. It was only Hermione and him… standing quite a distance away from the castle. She fell to her knees next to a cliff over the lake and began gathering the leaves. Of course, he knew that the plant was more potent when located on cliffs since they were close to the lake's habitat.

He did not want to be near her. How dare she slap him! Except why was he the one avoiding her?

He feared her… not as a witch but these new feelings he had whenever she was around.

How dare she tell him that she cared! He shouldn't have saved her. When he had seen Hermione running desperately through the hallways, he felt overjoyed at watching her be the first to die. It all changed when he saw her eyes. Her fear. Her tears.

If he believed in angels, she would be one.

If he believed in beauty, she was it.

If he believed in purity, she had redefined it.

At that point, he knew it was a mistake but he didn't know why. His thoughts were interrupted as he heard a loud noise and Hermione shriek. He turned towards the cliff and found it vacant with her basket thrown aside. His eyes searched the area around.

"_De Lioncourt_" Tom screamed, running towards the cliff and looking at the water which seemed to have been disturbed.

This was it. He had been given the choice once again. He could save her and once again be a savior to those stupid professors. However, that would only cause him to be troubled by her more. He was on his way to greatness. He couldn't take chances with a drawback. She meant _nothing_ to him. She was only a thorn at his side.

He would put an end to this foolishness. Smirking at the water, he walked away with a blank expression.

**Ohhhh nice cliffie eh? Muahahaha…I've been waiting for this one since the beginning! Yes, I'm so bored these days that I plan out my cliffies. evil laugh**


	9. Drowning

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**_

_**Yay another chapter! Lol… and it's less than a month since the last update! I'm improving! I've just gotten a job and a potential muse! Yeah… and other bad luck, but oh well! Please read and review! Enjoy**_

_**Chapter 9**_

Tom rushed down the cliff, tossing his robes aside. He dived deeper into the icy water, searching for Hermione. His heart was racing as he looked around hurriedly. Finally before reaching up to breathe, he spotted her pale face hovering near some rocks. He went up for a quick breath and muttered a quick spell to prolong his breathing under water.

He swam further in the chilly water and touched Hermione's arm. Her eyes fluttered open weakly and gazed at him in misery. She pointed wearily at something at her feet. For the first time, he noticed that her foot was trapped under a few heavy rocks which seemed to have fallen during some disturbance. He approached to carefully free her foot but De Lioncourt kept her arms in front to prevent him from approaching despite the increasing pained look on her face.

He frowned when he finally noticed a creature's arm wrapped tightly around her waist. The creature was a rare giant squid that was small in size, but Tom's eyes focused on Hermione, who was bending over in pain. Closing his eyes and keeping his right hand aloft, he motioned his lips. A small flood of black liquid streamed through the water and tightened around the creature's head. Usually he wouldn't dare use very extensive dark magic under Dumbledore's scrutiny but this was one of the exceptions. The creature slowly released its grip on Hermione before bursting into ashes. Her body fell forward immediately as she reached out to Tom's shoulder. Lifting her chin upwards, he pressed his lips against hers for her to breathe. Her body became limp against his; forcing him to help her to the shore. After much trouble, he laid her down away from the water. Luckily for both of them, the water had been quite calm for that November afternoon.

Tom tried to respire her despite having never done it on anyone. There was no room for hesitation as Hermione's lips turned a chilly blue. They were comparable to ice being rubbed against his lips. His movements became more fluid as he tried to revive her dying pulse until he finally felt a jerk from her chest as he lowered his body onto hers once more.

At once, he backed off, watching Hermione cough up some water and gasping loudly for air. Her face remained contorted in pain as she grasped the right side of her body.

"Tom," she said, gasping out loud after finally recognizing her rescuer. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "_Thanks_."

Offering him a weak smile, she nearly let go of his hand when she suddenly let out a loud cry of pain. Tears streamed from her eyes as her body began trembling.

"What's wrong?" he asked, hesitating to touch her since he had never once cared for a person never mind save them. All thoughts of her blood's purity were absent in his mind as he concentrated on the girl before him.

"It hurts," she moaned barely, motioning to her side, turning over towards him, and kicking the dirt at her feet. Tom looked quickly from her robes to Hermione's face. In horror, he noticed her tears freezing on her cheeks and a chilly blue color glazing over her eyes.

As if reading his mind, she muttered to herself, "I'm going to die." More tears welled up in her eyes.

"Say that again de Lioncourt and it will be my honour to quicken it," Tom said, looking at her darkly. His facial expression softened slightly and he smirked at her. Instantly, through all her misery and the fact that she knew that the odds were against her…she smiled weakly at him.

From the distant look in her eyes, she seemed to know exactly what was happening to her. "Probably from the same group as a Kappa," she said, pausing to catch her breath. "It's a Japanese water demon that feeds only on human blood. One poisonous bite and a victim's blood begins freezing."

Leave it to Hermione de Lioncourt to start rambling about what had attacked her. He simply nodded, subconsciously running his fingers through her hair.

"De Lioncourt, I need to take a look…," he said, carefully placing his hand over her robes.

She nodded, understanding. In a rapid movement, she placed her hand in his but didn't see Tom's jaw tighten and his face whiten. A shot of pain jolted up his arm and he momentarily closed his eyes to keep himself focused. Quietly she said before closing her eyes, "Please don't let go of my hand."

He squeezed her hand and said, "Keep talking."

"I should have gone to the infirmary for my stupid ankle. Now I'll be a frozen statue in the Great Hall that everyone pays homage to … the student killed by a Kappa. Always thought my death would be more heroic. At least a duel with a Kappa…" Hermione said, more faintly.

"You're not dead yet," Tom snapped, as he removed her robes to reveal her soaked and blood-stained oxford shirt. "Besides, I can't have all the competition dying on me at once." He lifted his head to find her gazing at the sky.

She was slipping away.

Quickly he unbuttoned her shirt to expose a black bra which matched perfectly with the liquid gushing out of the large wound near her ribs. The pain going through his body was over bearing as he quickly fell back. His free hand landed on his forehead.

'Why was it affecting him so much? The pain had never seemed this intense…' he thought to himself. Quickly searching through his robes, he came across a small bottle with a dark liquid which he drank in one swift movement. A quick relief spread through his body, and his thoughts concentrated on de Lioncourt once again.

One thing was for sure, it was out of his hands.

He did not have the skill to help her. She had already reached one of the far stages of the Kappa's infection. Her blood was turning darker before his eyes. Without hesitating, he removed her wet robes and skirt while pocketing her wand. He wrapped her trembling body in his dry robes before painfully lifting her up. His arm began throbbing at her weight and her hand fell limp at his side. He gritted his teeth and nearly dropped her as his arm nearly gave up on him.

Clenching his jaw tightly, he carried her hurriedly to the castle. All the students were greatly surprised to see Tom walk into the castle with his wet stained shirt sticking to his body and water droplets dropping from his damp hair as he carried a weakened Hermione. A few students, especially Tom's followers, could not help but notice how she was clutching his hand and her feverish lips were pressed against his neck.

Draco was sitting near the window, examining the Quidditch field and wondering when he would be able to continue playing. Quidditch was the only thing that had remained the same for him.

Hell, even Hermione had changed. He had never expected that before being sent on this mission. They were different with each other now. It shouldn't be a big deal. It wasn't new that he was not speaking to her. A little voice in the back of his mind nastily reminded him, 'Not as if you were on speaking terms before.'

Suddenly, the door slammed open noisily and Tom Riddle's head popped in with a pained expression. Draco clenched his fist, wishing that he could send it into Tom's jaw when he saw the girl in his arms.

"What did you do to her?" Draco said, already outraged and running to the bed he had placed Hermione on. He pushed Tom against the wall, bashing his head against it.

"Boys, that's enough!" a young Pomfrey screeched, while entering the room.

"What's wrong with her?" Pomfrey asked. Once she had gotten a clear view of Hermione's face, she cried out in surprise.

Draco finally looked down at Hermione, who was paler than all his relatives combined and that was saying alot.

"What in bloody hell did you do to her?" Draco said in a deadly tone as Tom pushed Draco off him violently.

"Don't you dare touch me," Tom replied back in the same tone.

"Stay away from her," Draco said, glancing at Hermione, laying his hand on her robes, and noticing the Head Boy badge on it for the first time.

No sooner had he turned his head in Tom's direction when he looked back at Hermione.

Wait a minute.

"What are your robes doing on her?" Draco said, his eyes glistening darkly at the badge. Meanwhile, Pomfrey was removing the robes to reveal Hermione in only a bra. This time, her injury was seeping black blood and her veins had a navy blue color. Draco would have truly murdered Tom if Dumbledore had not yanked Draco away while Dippet did the same for Tom.

"Mr. Riddle and Mr. Devereux, I will not tolerate this behavior," Dippet said sternly to the students before turning to the grave sight before him.

"Two Head Girls, Albus," Dippet said silently to Dumbledore, who had already acknowledged the fact and gazed at Tom Riddle.

"Mr. Riddle, I believe you can explain what has happened," Dumbledore solemnly said, gazing at Tom in a perplexed manner.

Tom explained everything that had occurred after Hermione fell in a subdued tone. It gave Draco no reason to attack him but he still observed his Slytherin classmate suspiciously.

Hermione's shivering increased, holding on tightly to the side of the bed with her eyes closed. Draco unknowingly placed his hand over hers.

"St. Mungo's is the only possible answer," the mediwitch replied hastily before putting another heating spell on Hermione, "She has lost a lot of blood and the infection is spreading beyond the reach of my healing."

"Yes, immediately," Dippet agreed, about to contact St. Mungo's through Pomfrey's office.

"I would suggest that Hermione remain here," Dumbledore said loudly and sternly.

"As Headmaster, you don't have a say in this affair," Dippet said, annoyed at having his authority questioned. Dumbledore immediately stepped forward. "It would be unwise to move her in this condition. We can easily get help from St. Mungo's here." He paused and murmured to Dippet in a clear voice, "Think of the publicity if this is blown out of proportion."

Anyone in the room would have seen Dumbledore's dominance in the school's matters as Dippet hesitantly backed down at the latter's comment. As pigheaded as he was, Dippet at least knew the consequences of this incident to his position at Hogwarts.

"Send for assistance, Albus," Dippet said, frustratingly.

"Mr. Devereux, please return to your bed and take the sleep potion I had given earlier. Mr. Riddle, you may visit her another day," Pomfrey yelled to both students as she drew the curtains around the bed.

"_Visit_," Tom scoffed under his breath when he was far from his headmaster and professor, "I have better things to do."

Draco heard the comment but didn't say a word. If anything, Hermione would not be alive if he had not saved her from drowning. His jaw clenched harder as he thought of Hermione owing Tom for saving her life yet again. He reluctantly headed back to his bed but was surprised to find Tom pausing before exiting to glance back at the white curtains surrounding her bed.

"Dumbledore is not a fool," Tom said, astonishing Draco even more. "You wouldn't see her again if she'd been sent to St. Mungo's."

He then looked at Draco warily, "Don't play dumb Devereux. The Ministry loves a clean image and having kappas roaming the school waters without magical supervision is not their cup of tea. Never mind that most of them are traditionalist Purebloods that will stop at nothing to make a Muggle-born's condition worse."

Draco agreed with Tom although he had thought that Tom would be the last person to criticize Purebloods openly. Considering the recent chain of events, he expected Tom to be wishing for Hermione's death. He eyed Tom suspiciously, trying to figure out his motives.

"You really should check that arm," Draco said coldly, remembering the pained expression on Tom's face when he entered the room. It had definitely been a slip on Tom's side, who had not expected anyone to be in the Hospital Wing.

Tom's head jerked in Draco's direction, "Don't worry Devereux, I'll be the Seeker on the field in two weeks. You just worry about being there yourself."

Tom slammed the door behind him and left Draco staring at the potion near him. There was absolutely no way that he was going to sleep.

Two days later, Tom was patrolling the hallways. It was one of the best parts of being Head Boy since it left him more at liberty to check the Restricted sections in the library instead of breaking in past curfew like in his previous years. Of course, he had to share these duties with the Head Girl but Hermione was gladly far from roaming the castle, so he had gladly accepted the additional work.

He had not visited her, as the stupid mediwitch had suggested. Nor had he come to the point of feeling obligated to do so since others might expect him to visit his head counterpart. Quite frankly, he didn't care about the students, but maintaining the professors' good opinion of him was essential especially if Dumbledore was always on his track. Besides, he was convinced that the crew from St. Mungo's would bring Hermione back to health. A muggleborn's disposition did not concern him in the least.

Unfortunately, the Head Boy was greatly mistaken. As he turned the corner, the distinct voices of two people could be heard. Typically, Tom would find no reason to eavesdrop on conversations as they were often pointless. However, this time it was not about gossip or plans for pranks, nor silly relationship details.

It was about him and his future.

_**Well I hope you liked it…I didn't leave a cliffie in this one, or did I? Not sure haha**_


	10. Light

_Hey! Sorry this chapter took so long to upload! My beta accepts part of the blame but I also was very busy in the last four months with school. The good news is that I passed and now I can focus on fanfiction for the next four months. That's if work doesn't kill me...Enjoy!_

Draco rolled over lazily, slowly adjusting his eyes to the darkness. He cursed Pomfrey when he saw an empty glass on the night table. To his misfortune, she had discovered that he hadn't been drinking the sleep potions. Hence, he was put to sleep for the entire afternoon since it was only the weekend. Merlin, he despised the woman for not sharing his belief that bones heal faster while awake.

So what if he hadn't slept lately and his body was taking its sweet time to heal? In fact, it was his deepest wish to prolong his stay in the Hospital Wing. He knew Hermione's condition was deteriorating without hearing it from Pomfrey, the professors or any of the St. Mungo's staff.

The signs had been coming for some time, but the defining point was when they avoided his questions last night.

The wizards and mediwitches had been constantly surrounding her bedside every single hour of the day. Now, they had disappeared into the cool evening air without a trace and yet she remained on the bed in the corner of the room.

He squinted to check if it was really Hermione sleeping. Her state undoubtedly hadn't improved since her veins remained dark blue. She was unconscious and facing the ceiling like a statue. If he were to approach her bed and place his ear above her lips, her shallow breaths would barely be distinguishable to him. He didn't blame Pomfrey for placing injured students in other rooms. Her deathlike appearance would haunt even the fiercest Death Eaters he knew.

The door suddenly creaked open.

Draco expected to see Pomfrey or some other St. Mungo's official entering the room but was stunned at the sight of a tall dark hooded figure. Draco immediately closed his eyes and gripped his wand firmly. The person crept over to his night table and smelled the glass.

"Sleep potion," the voice muttered. He noiselessly set the glass back on the table. He paused at the table for a short period of time before leaving.

That's when Draco reopened his eyes and spotted the person lowering his hood near Hermione's bed.

Tom.

Draco would have jumped out of bed if it was not for his curiosity. Tom glanced suspiciously in his direction but assumed that he was asleep. He carefully placed stones at Hermione's feet, head and hands. Draco strived to identify the spell he was using but only recognized one of the stones. The two stones at her head and feet were white with black lines and the stone at Hermione's right hand was a green color.

The huge rose stone with black patches on Tom's side was surely a Rhodonite. It was widely popular in many dark arts spells and he was no stranger to it either. It helped the user reach their maximum magical potential.

Wrapping his fingers over the rhodonite stone, Tom began murmuring a spell which instantly produced a dark shield around Hermione's lower body. Draco tried forcing himself to move but couldn't and felt that he had been tied to the bed with invisible chains.

Draco watched as Tom pulled a dagger from his robes and cut his palm. He stopped for a short period of time, contemplating his actions before grasping Hermione's hand. His fingers had barely snaked around hers when she grabbed his arm aggressively. Tom nearly fell backwards as the sudden shock coursed through his arm and slammed him into the next bed.

"Tom," Hermione's parched voice called.

Tom looked closely at Hermione and found her still asleep as her arm's grip weakened gradually. Staring perplexedly at her, he warily cut her palm before entwining both of their hands. A book suddenly appeared in front of him and he read a passage in a hushed tone.

The windows were all blown open as a draft of hot air blew into the room, sending Tom nearly into Hermione's bed. Draco continued to watch confusedly as some colour crept into Hermione's cheeks and she clutched Tom's hand so tightly that his face whitened increasingly with every second. As her face slowly returned to its regular appearance, Tom was contracting flashes of her illness. His veins darkened and his pupils approached the color of sand as he crashed faintly to his knees.

"That's enough," Tom breathed, yanking his hand from hers and collapsing into the next bed. He luckily had placed a silencing spell on the room in advance. Tom struggled to stand and stared at Hermione placidly. All the stones had become dark black while the green one seemed to have burned into a pile of ashes. He anxiously pointed his wand to the bed sheets and removed the gathered powder.

Tom glanced hesitantly at Hermione, whose serene face was turned towards him. She represented everything that he wasn't. Never had he been more tempted to cross the bridge from the darkness he had always considered as a safe haven. If only to quench his curiosity for a second, he reached out his hand to move the hair that had blown into her face but stopped awkwardly. His fingers curled into a ball as his arm fell.

Alas, some times curiosity was best left in the dark.

He left the room abruptly, only pausing to cast a dark look in Draco's direction.

The hand retaining his fellow Slytherin classmate was finally released, leaving another to his own curiosity. However, Draco soon felt his eyelids became heavier and a slight drowsy feeling overcame him. He plunged back into the bed, his wand falling freely from his hands.

Early next morning, Draco woke up in a daze. 'Was it a dream?' he thought, glancing at Hermione's bed. Honestly, he felt completely out of it when he approached and found her sleeping calmly without any symptoms of the illness. The bed's surroundings came across perfectly normal with not even the slightest proof of Tom's presence.

Nevertheless, he bent down and swabbed the floor with his finger to check for ash remnants of the burned stone but discovered none. When slowly rising, he detected a fleck of green powder resting on the side of the furniture. His thumb had scarcely brushed it when there was a light tug on his shirt's collar that made him leap forwards and knock a table down.

He pointed his wand at the attacker. "Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?"

Hermione gazed at him in wonder before placing her hands menacingly on her waist. Glaring at him, she said dangerously, "If you don't put that wand down at once Draco Malfoy, I'll make sure that there won't be any little blond ferrets running around."

He lowered his wand and towered over her intentionally. With one eyebrow cocked and his trademark smirk which made many from the opposite gender (or same for the matter) melt, he said coolly, "Love, who said they had to be blonde when they can carry after such beauty as yours…"

Hermione slid her finger in her mouth and pretended to gag, "You mean to say that actually works for you? You? Me? Naaaauhhhh. Not even if - "

"We were to return to the future and find ourselves dealing with the sexual tension of being the last surviving of both the Muggle and Wizarding race?" he said quickly, "And the sole responsibility of repopulating weighing down our shoulders."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "That's so cliché." She stretched her legs and arms while ignoring Draco's attempt to appear disappointed. "I feel like I've been sleeping for days."

"_You have_," Draco stated, staring at Hermione as if she was mad when she energetically jumped off the bed. Her face brightened up with her smile but it instantly faded when she nearly collapsed. He caught her swiftly and pulled her up.

"_That_ was a bad idea," she said anxiously. She rested her chin on his shoulder and shivered against him. "Why is it so cold?"

Draco tossed one of the blankets across her shoulders, securing its sides to maintain her position. He laughed, "You're the one who was acting like an air freezitioner or whatever Muggles call it."

"_Air conditioner?_" Hermione asked weakly, taking a step back to examine Draco in astonishment. "Since when do you know about…"

"If you haven't noticed, I'm _forced_ to take a Muggle course," he said exasperatingly.

Hermione grinned, shaking a strand of her hair away nervously. She glanced up at Draco and said softly, "Admit it. You _missed_ me."

The blanket sagged in his hands as he glimpsed at the room tensely before opening his mouth to respond.

"MR. DEVEREUX!" Pomfrey shouted, her face reddening as she burst into the room, "What in Merlin's name are you doing?"

Her mouth dropped and she shrieked when she saw Hermione staring back at her vividly, while leaning on Draco for support.

"Oh dear me," Pomfrey said, approaching to observe Hermione thoroughly, "Devereux get the Headmaster at once."

"But I'm injured," Draco whined, cradling his arm, "I don't feel so great."

"_GO NOW_," Pomfrey demanded, "How do you feel Miss. de Lioncourt." Draco dragged himself out of the room and ran to alert the professors.

When he returned with Dumbledore and Dippet, Hermione was being fully examined by Pomfrey who was so overly amazed by the recovery that she continuously praised it vocally.

"Good morning, Miss de Lioncourt," Dippet said cheerfully, knowing he wouldn't need to lose sleep over _two_ students falling dangerously ill, "How do you feel?"

"_Great_," she replied, her eyes regaining their former sparkle.

Draco remained at the bedside and noticed Dumbledore wipe his fingers across the table.

Studying his hands, the professor said softly, "Calcite powder." Draco should have known that Dumbledore wouldn't miss even the smallest detail. "Draco, do you know where this came from?"

Draco shook his head and gazed at Hermione instead.

She was alive and that's all that counted even though he might somehow be in debt to Tom Riddle. Dumbledore accepted his answer but persistently watched him until he departed.

"Everything seems fine," Pomfrey said, "You'll be able to return to class in two days. As for you Mr. Devereux, I'm afraid that your time is up."

"Are you sure? I have this unusual tingling in my-" Draco said before being interrupted.

"No, not this time Mr. Devereux," Pomfrey said condescendingly. "Miss. de Lioncourt must rest." After Dippet and Dumbledore both wished Hermione farewell and good health, Pomfrey administered the sleep potion and left.

"Back to what I was saying before," Hermione murmured with a faint laugh, "I knew you needed me. So I came back."

"I need _you_?" Draco sneered, rolling his eyes at her comment. He sat at the edge of her bed. Her eyes closed and she missed his nervous look.

He thought that she had drifted off to sleep until she whispered, "To fight one nasty villain."

She gulped nervously and took a deep breath. "_He saved me_."

"_Who?_" he asked, knowing fully well who she meant but perplexed at how she knew.

When she didn't respond, he watched her sleep for a minute before muttering,

"That's what I'm worried about."

He tentatively bent down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

When Hermione was dismissed by Pomfrey two days later, Draco visited and didn't hesitate to bring up the topic. "That day when you said 'he saved you,' who did you mean?" He had not brought up anything about her 'quick' recovery especially after Dumbledore had told him that the St. Mungo's witches left after declaring that there was no possible chance for her survival. The infection had spread to nearly 90 of her body a few hours before Tom came. Draco still hadn't said anything to Dumbledore about Tom's presence.

"You know who," she said, candidly.

"No I don't," Draco said strongly.

"Don't lie," Hermione said irritatingly, "You were fully awake when Tom entered the room."

"What the-," Draco said, his eyes widening, "You weren't even conscious."

"He put a spell on you so that you wouldn't interfere. I don't know what happened after that," she said, shrugging.

"_How_ do you know this?" Draco said, studying her carefully.

Hermione looked away for awhile, "There was completely nothing passing through my mind and then," she said, pausing, "when he touched me…."

"That's impossible! Tom excels at Occlumency," Draco said, pondering how it could be possible.

"Some times powerful spells can cause the best occlumens to slip a few thoughts," Hermione explained, "What I want to know is what he did…"

Draco described what happened in full detail.

"_What_ made him do it?" Hermione wondered out loud.

"Three is a charm," Draco responded in a distant voice, making Hermione stare at him in confusion. "This is the third time he has saved you."

"_No_," Hermione said firmly.

"You're forgetting the broken windows," he said, almost accusingly.

"He was _clearly_ protecting himself," Hermione said defensively.

"There's more than what meets the eye," Draco said frigidly as he glanced out the window at the Quidditch field.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked angrily, forcing him to look at her.

He stared fixedly at the floor, "The unbreakable vow is one malicious spell, isn't it?"

She gazed at him in wonder, "You've been sworn to secrecy? _For what?_"

"Yes, it was all part of a wonderful initiation by the Order of the Phoenix," Draco said sarcastically, "The treaty is held between McGonagall and I. The bonder is Lupin."

"Why can't you tell me?" Hermione asked, desperately. The only group of people she trusted had turned their backs on her.

"They don't want to mess with the future," he said guiltily at her reaction.

"So _all_ of this has been lies?" Hermione asked, frustratingly.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him, "I'm there for you, Mione, and I would tell you…"

"I understand," Hermione said, nodding in frustration.

"You can do it," he said quietly, avoiding her eyes.

"Right," she said, sighing. Both of them did not speak and walked towards the Great Hall when Hermione stopped. "I don't think I'm going to come." She glanced at some of the students passing by, "I need to think about a few things."

Draco nodded and left.

Hermione entered her common room after what felt like an eternity. Closing the door behind her, she leaned on it. The common room was a complete mess with papers and books scattered on the front table. Tom was always the type to have everything, including his schedule, in order so that living with him had not been as bad as one would think. In fact, seeing the room in such a state had utterly shocked Hermione. It forced her to reconsider her opinion of him

Wasn't Tom Riddle perfect? No, everyone had their faults. Perhaps it was only that everyone from both sides considered the future Lord Voldemort to be immortal. Well, he had gone as far as to create horcruxes of himself so it was partially true.

Approaching the table, she didn't find school textbooks but dark arts books instead. One book was prominent since it was right in front of the Head Boy's chair.

She leaned forward and picked up the book. Hermione read the passage rapidly, her heart thumping faster in her ears with every word.

_While quite powerful, the anima spell is quite deadly if done incorrectly. Anima binds two people together if they are equals. A theory once formed by Salazar Slytherin, he believed that a wizard or witches' true potential could be reached when combined with their equal. Strength can be transferred between equals. An injured person can be alleviated by their equal as far as bringing them back to life. Nevertheless, each healing process or new life comes with an equivalent consequence. A limit is placed for the number of anima transformations possible due to the consequences._

_Beware that if performed on a person who is not an equal, it may kill the person of weaker disposition. The spell can be performed with the following stones. _

Hermione searched through the list to find descriptions that matched the two stones that Draco had not recognized.

_Agate, the most powerful healing stone_

That sounded reasonable enough to Hermione.

_Calcite, clears negative energies for the object or person in question. It intensifies clarity and attracts love. _

Attracts love? 'Oh dear,' Hermione thought, thinking about how the stone had burned. 'Why did he pick that stone out of all of them?' She glanced at the next page, expecting more information but found something more staggering.

"Don't you have work to catch up with instead of sticking your nose in my things?" Tom said behind her in an unusually calm voice made the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Hermione yelped and turned around to face him.

He towered over Hermione, casting an ominous shadow over her. There were dark circles around his eyes and his hair was not neat like usual.

"It's time that we talked," Tom Riddle said to her, pausing to reflect his next words, "_Hermione_."

He wrapped his fingers little by little on the edge of the book and began pulling it out of her hands lightly. The second page was the only thing that remained on her mind.

It was the Death Eater mark.

_I hope you liked it! Review and tell me what you think! Thanks _


	11. Questions

_**Hey! So sorry it took so long to update! Well here it is and hopefully I'll get the others up soon. **_

**Chapter 11**

Tom coolly returned the book to the other ones lying on his table as Hermione's fingers slid across her wand apprehensively.

"Why did you do it?" Hermione asked bluntly.

"I have my motives," he retorted, leaning against the table and lowering his head. "I would not take the blame for a foolish mudblood's drowning." Tom said, boldly meeting her eyes.

"I'm talking about the _spell_," she responded sharply.

His eyes flashed darkly and he sighed, "Being falsely accused of two Head Girls' deaths _isn't_ pleasant, especially as I was around the second time."

"_Falsely_ accused?" she said, "You're no angel, Riddle. Edwards is dying, and you did it"

He glanced at her calmly. She stared at him fiercely.

He murmured coldly with a devilish grin, "_Prove it_."

"You lived with her and had every chance to—," she said heatedly, but Tom interrupted.

"Not a strong case," he said bluntly, momentarily looking at her. He approached her calmly, "Haven't you noticed, de Lioncourt? I'm _still_ standing here." The heat emanated from him as he lowered his cheek near hers, making her breathing increase rapidly. "Do you not think that fool Dumbledore thought of all these possibilities?" he replied, spitting Dumbledore's name in disgust.

Hermione growled loudly in anger, "_One day_ they will catch you Riddle and I'll be damned –,"

Before she could utter another word, he pressed his finger gently against her lips. She pursed her lips, prompting his hand to fall back as she continued to glare at him sternly.

If only he had watched another second, he would have seen exactly what he had secretly sought from her. Instead, he turned around, and although she refused to acknowledge her feelings, her face betrayed the resentment she felt obliged to direct towards him. Yet she couldn't shake the wonder that she, Hermione Granger, had been the recipient of such a gesture from him of all people. It sent shivers up her back and affected her more than she would have desired.

The moment passed as discretely as it had arrived, and she reminded herself of Tom's past treacherous dealings that included mixing his charm with malice.

"My time is precious, and surely you have more intelligent things to say besides empty accusations," he said, holding up his chin in a reflective manner.

She gazed back at his disheveled hair and blushed as her eyes lingered on his Oxford shirt which was unbuttoned at the top to reveal his strong neck. Her eyes rose slowly to his and all her words disappeared as he awaited her response. It was something like a mysterious yearning or a deep hunger as their eyes remained locked.

He blinked and ended the eye contact, "Very well then." He turned to return towards his room, but paused and turned his head. In what seemed like disappointment, he muttered, "I expected more from you, de Lioncourt."

He quickly placed a spell to clean up and return most of the items to his room while she stood frozen to her spot.

He was about to step over the threshold of his room when Hermione spoke. "You overheard Dumbledore and Dippet speaking about you," she said, bringing up a part that hadn't been mentioned to Draco. It was one of the few memories that Tom had accidentally transmitted. "They spoke about your equal being in the school, but never stated their name. Why did you think it was _me_ of all people?"

"You're alive, so I was right," Tom said, "There is nothing else to be said about it."

"You wanted me to talk, and now that I ask you're afraid to answer," Hermione said, forcefully grabbing his arm.

"Depends on what you want to hear. An honest answer or a fabrication of lies," he sneered.

"I don't have high expectations for you in the honesty category so it doesn't seem like I have a _choice_," Hermione said angrily.

A sudden explosion of anger in Tom caused him to forcefully pull her by the hand and slam her against his door all while retaining a calm composure as he whispered, "Now, my dear, you've been less than honest yourself."

"I have," she said, peering at him confidently despite the fear rising in the pit of her stomach. Who was she fooling? If Tom discovered the truth about why she was really at Hogwarts, she would never see her time again.

A sickening feeling gripped her as he tried to access her thoughts forcefully, but her Occlumency lessons with Harry had paid off. Her legs caved in from the pressure, but his strong arms held her steadfast.

"Impressive, de Lioncourt," Tom said silently.

"It's rude to pry in other people's thoughts," Hermione said, pushing him away and glaring.

Tom ignored her comment and demanded, "Are you _really_ Hermione de Lioncourt, and where are you from?"

"London and yes, I am," she said confidently.

He circled around her like a predator stalking its prey and brought his face closer to hers and hissed, "You lie." He released his grip on her and reentered the common room, glancing around as though searching for something.

"You do the same," she snapped, stalking towards him again.

He swiftly turned around and smirked, "So you're _not_ Hermione de Lioncourt."

"No, I'm not," she replied calmly, "I am Hermione, but I am not a de Lioncourt, as you already know." This statement obviously frustrated Tom even more although he refused to show it.

"Believe me, Hermione," Tom snickered, shocking her by saying her first name, "I'm not jumping in joy, knowing that my equal is a mudblood."

"Then why save me if you're so disgusted?" Hermione asked, refusing to back down.

"For the same reason as the first two times," Tom said, running his fingers through his hair impatiently.

_Three is a charm. _

Remembering Draco's words, she stared at Tom inquiringly, "In class."

Tom rolled his eyes, saying, "Yes, your little tantrum in astronomy class."

"That was _you_!" Hermione said exasperatingly. It was absolutely preposterous that she had caused the windows to break. It had never happened to her, but the fact that both Tom and Draco wholeheartedly believed in its truth wasn't comforting.

"Wrong," he responded in a daunting tone, "_You _started it and _I _stopped you from hurting yourself foolishly."

"Why do you care?" Hermione said miserably. Nothing made sense, and she just wanted to escape to her time and forget everything. Did McGonagall want her to learn that Tom Riddle was her equal on her own? Riddle, the murderer of her best friend's parents and countless others, was saving her and had thought of her, a mere Muggle-born, as his equal above all others. _Why?_

He didn't bother to answer her question, "The professors want me to help you to catch up. I'll be here or in the library if you need me." He closed the door swiftly on Hermione, leaving many questions unanswered and many more feelings provoked.

Later in the evening, Hermione slid out of the bathtub and wrapped herself in a towel. It was a relief to have a long hot bath after being stuck in the hospital wing. She rinsed the water from her hair and put on her slippers. Leaving the door slightly ajar, she took a quick glimpse around the common room to ensure that Tom wasn't there. After not seeing any sign of the Slytherin, she quickly tiptoed across the room, but yelped as she nearly tripped over a rigid object near the foot of the sofa.

She glanced at the floor and screamed after realizing it was Tom's hand. He was leaning against the sofa not bothered a bit by her reaction. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked him crossly, tightening the towel around her body. Her face reddened as she felt it slipping down with every second.

"Having my afternoon cup of tea," he sneered sarcastically, a grimace on his pale face.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, noticing for the first time that he was clutching his side.

"I'm fine," he snapped. "Don't touch me," he barked when her hand reached out to him.

She quickly moved away, mildly hurt by his rudeness.

She realized that he was touching the same area where she had been injured. "It's

the spell, isn't it?"

He nodded and was left confused when she walked away. She returned to hand him a bottle containing a dark purple liquid.

"Pomfrey gave me two bottles in case I experienced any more pains. You can keep the other," Hermione explained, still gripping her towel.

He nodded, opening the bottle and smelling it with an eyebrow raised skeptically. He swallowed some of the potion and waited silently, without saying a word to her. He remembered that she was standing before him impatiently in nothing but a towel. He gulped and forced himself to cast his eyes downwards to only endure the sight of droplets sliding down her long pale legs.

She said in a bossy tone, "Are you planning on sitting there all night?" He glanced up to find her smirking at him.

He sighed and hesitated before reaching out for her hand. "Pull me up will you."

She did as he directed and watched as he stumbled in his spot. He attempted to walk away to his room, but failed miserably and nearly fell. She slipped her arm under his shoulders and held him upwards, but couldn't help noticing how his body stiffened immediately at her touch. Reaching for his head, he seemed bothered by a small migraine, but he shook his head and didn't push her off.

"Are you sure that you don't want to go to the hospital wing," she asked worriedly as her arm wrapped around him.

He shook his head, placing his arm around her wet shoulder unable to believe how much thinner she had become. Turning the knob to his door, she continued to lead him into the darkness of his room. Slipping quickly into his bed, he watched curiously as Hermione carefully pulled the covers over him.

"What?" she said, feeling his steady gaze on her. She blushed and ran her fingers over her mouth, wondering if there was anything on it.

"Nothing," he mumbled, closing his eyes

"Call me if you need anything," she said, but assumed that he had fallen asleep already when he didn't respond. It didn't surprise her; he had probably stayed up late quite often recently to prepare the anima spell. Her fingers stumbled carelessly across his face and swept away a stray hair. She couldn't believe that the person sleeping serenely before her was destined to be Voldemort. Her hand gently cupped his face for a moment, but yanked it away as soon as a troubled look appeared on his face.

She silently left his room and shut the door quietly behind her. Tom reopened his eyes and touched his cheek lightly before drifting off into sleep.

Two days later, Draco finally saw an opportunity to talk to Hermione when he saw a free seat near her in Transfiguration. He waited for her to acknowledge him as she emptied her bag.

"How was the rest of your weekend?" she asked warily after a few minutes.

He didn't have enough time to respond because Dumbledore began the lesson. Hermione opened her book and flipped to the correct page and started reading about an advanced method for cross-species switches.

"You'll have to speak to me at some point," Draco murmured.

Annoyed, she turned towards him, "We're in class."

Glancing back at her book, she was shocked to find that all the words had disappeared off the page. She flipped through the other pages and found them completely normal.

"Draco, that isn't funny," Hermione said scornfully.

"Can you please be quiet," he said mockingly and not aware of the change in her book, "_We're in class_."

Glancing around the room, she found that all the other books were perfectly alright.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked down and found letters reappearing on the page.

Draco fidgeted nervously with his quill when he found Hermione staring attentively at her book. The page didn't match his at all, but contained only one word.

_Thanks_

She gazed in Tom's direction, who glanced at her for a split second before continuing to work.

'Thanks for what?' Draco thought, frowning, as many disturbing images entered his mind including sexual services. He shuddered at the mere thought of it.

Later that night, Hermione approached Tom who was busy studying in the common room. She fidgeted with her papers and nervously cleared her throat.

"Yes," he said, barely looking up from his papers.

She muttered something incoherently, forcing Tom to ask her to repeat. "I was wondering if you could help me in DADA."

He sneered and glanced up at her.

"_Please?"_ she asked.

"Oh, de Lioncourt," Tom said dramatically, "I had planned on finishing my Transfigurations' essay tonight… but since you plead so much, I'm sure I can spare you a few minutes of my time."

"Stop being such a prat about it. I can well enough figure it out on my own," Hermione said frustrated. She felt ready to smack him on the head. It wasn't often that she asked other students for help.

"What is it then?" he asked calmly.

"I'm having trouble with the shadow spell," Hermione explained. That particular spell used the caster's shadow to imprison an object or person without injuring them.

"Shouldn't be that bad," he said, standing up and thinking for a moment before transfiguring a book on the table into a black cat.

He walked behind Hermione and murmured, "Close your eyes and concentrate on it." He paused and watched her lift her wand.

"Think of your shadow as a separate part of you. The easiest way is to picture the outline of your shadow, and pretend that you're making it move mentally. Then cast the spell," he explained.

She took a deep breath, following his instructions and said the non-verbal spell in her mind. At first nothing seemed to happen until the cat jumped in the air.

"That's not bad," Tom said, knowing that it was a very difficult spell to complete, "You were able to touch it. Try to remember that you need to cover your shadow over the object before touching it."

She nodded, attempting the spell again except this time a shock coursed through her body. A nauseating feeling came upon her, and everything around her began moving in full force when she opened her eyes.

"I don't feel too well," she muttered, tilting her head backwards. She unintentionally fell against Tom's chest, but was surprised when he didn't push her away. Instead, he led her to the sofa and watched as she regained her senses.

"You're not prepared to do such strong spells," he said calmly, "Don't do it till you've regained your strength."

She nodded, knowing that her concentration had been greatly affected after recovering. "So tell me," she said, as she laid her head against a pillow, "If your interest seemingly lies in the Dark Arts, why be the best in DADA?" Normally, she wouldn't have asked Riddle such a straightforward question, but the words had just slipped from her mouth.

"To be the best at what you like means excelling at the obstacles that hinder it," he said, sitting on the seat opposite from her. "Want to work on the astrology project?" he suggested, reminding her about the project. She recognized that the table in front of them was scattered with astrology documents and books.

She growled loudly, "I'm sorry. I left you with all the work."

"That was the original plan," Tom said, silently.

"No, that was _your_ plan," Hermione said, correcting him and studying his astrology observations. "So why did you change your mind?"

"Check these constellations and planet arrangements," he said, handing her a bunch of parchments that were like wizard photos of the sky. He quickly returned to his books at another table without answering her question.

An hour later, Tom glanced in Hermione's direction and found her sleeping peacefully. He approached slowly and examined the notes she had completed. His eyebrows rose, impressed by her notes. They were extremely concise, and probably as good as the work he had been doing lately. Sitting near her, he began reading through them. Several minutes had passed when her head fall against his shoulder. He flinched at the sudden contact with her body as she cuddled up against him.

Gazing down at her, he found her mouth slightly open as she continued to sleep serenely. Tom cursed their closeness and was forced to place the papers away in order to move. He realized this was a mistake as soon as Hermione changed the position of her arms and hugged his waist.

His body refused to move despite wishing to awaken her. To his displeasure, it got worse when she began trembling, and the peculiarity of the situation made his face heat up.

After muttering a spell to close the nearest window, he summoned an item from his room.

He had never inhaled a sweeter aroma than her hair and all thoughts to move away from her were over and done. Instead, he moved closer to her and summoned a book to read while she slept.

Hermione inhaled the strong aroma of autumn and sighed blissfully. The feeling abruptly diminished when she opened her eyes in fear to find herself in Tom Riddle's arms. She glanced down at the Slytherin blanket covering her and smiled at the boy sleeping near her. His head was lying several inches above hers and she listened to him breathe softly. His book had been discarded to his right. Perhaps there was more to this Slytherin Prince than she had originally thought. She grinned at the serene look on his face. He wasn't all that bad. Before thinking too hard on the matter, she forced herself back to sleep.

The next morning, Hermione was startled awake by Tom slamming the door to his room. Only a pile of astronomy papers were left as a warm reminder of the night before, but that was quickly replaced by the cool draft entering the room.

The moment was over.


	12. Lecanomancy

**Chapter 12 – Lecanomancy**

Hermione grudgingly walked to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, pausing to take a deep breath in preparation for the following hour. Surviving the abominable course during the week posed a particularly vexing problem and yet there she was, bright and early in the morning, meeting Draco for a date with Divination. In the distance, she heard the jovial cries of students running towards the Quidditich field. Watching a practice in monsoon rains would be an infinitely better use of her time. A profound regret for volunteering to tutor the Dark Lord Jr. lingered as she stared at the blank wall before her. As though additional bonding time with his royal highness was not enough, Divination outside of class without extra credit was pure torment.

There was a lethargic feel to the air, one that could only be contributed to the course, as she strolled past the wall three times. Focusing intently on her need of a meeting room for the course, a door emerged in front of her. Upon entering the room, she spotted Draco seated behind a large oak table at the back of the room with several books stacked on either side of him.

Hardly glancing from his book, he muttered, "Morning."

She merely stood stationary at the door, groaning in response to the basin of water in front of him. He folded the top of the page and closed the book.

"As much as I enjoy…," Draco said in a suave tone, catching a fleeting glimpse of Hermione from head to toe. Her high-waisted black knee length skirt contrasted perfectly with the plain clean cut cream blouse whose sleeves were rolled up. He went on, "The view... _my_ time is precious, Granger."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Every so often these days when they were alone, he teased her by reversing to her last name.

Draco leaned against the books for support to grab a jar and didn't waste the opportune moment her attention was elsewhere to watch the sway of her hips as she approached the table. Her black heeled pumps tapped against the floor impatiently and he turned to find her perusing the titles of the books near him diligently.

He removed the books near him and patted the bench. "Sit," he ordered.

"Wanker," she muttered, leaving a wide space between them. The vivid light from the room's chandelier made the wet ends of her dark hair glisten.

_Strawberries_. She had just showered.

He glanced at her, loving how flustered she became when he reverted to his old self. "Come closer," he whispered seductively, enjoying the brighter shade of red on her face. Leaning forward, he lightly brushed some loose hair behind her ear. "I promise I won't bite."

"No thanks, this is close enough," she said, beginning to sniffle. "I'm allergic to ferrets." She glanced over at his book and exclaimed, "Aww, does Drakie Wakie reeeeeaaaaad?"

"It's a -," he said before she interrupted.

"_Dark arts book!_ That's from the Restricted section," she said, her eyes widening over the title _Magick Moste Evil_.

"I'm simply borrowing it," Draco sneered, ignoring her look of disapproval.

"For some _light_ reading," he added, imitating Hermione. "Since when does Hermione Granger prowl the Restricted Section? Never reckoned I'd see the day you'd break a rule at Hogwarts."

"Oh don't become too cheeky!" Hermione said, slapping him on the arm. "Say _one_ more word and I'll have you in detention!"

Draco grinned mischievously and said, "The pleasure is all mine. Don't act as if you wouldn't have a randy time in the dungeons with yours truly."

Hermione shuddered and said disgustedly, "I'd rather assist Snape in washing the grease from his hair."

"That can be arranged," Draco said in a lilting, teasing voice. "As a close confidant, he informed me several times of his fondness and profound desire for you to actively engage in his fantasies where –"

She gritted her teeth and felt the heat rising to her cheeks. "That's quite enough," Hermione said firmly. Dragging the white basin closer to her on the table, the expression on her face showed she was quite determined to change topics. "What are we doing?"

"We're practicing lecanomancy," he said, placing a jar of red fragrant oil on the table and nodding his head in encouragement for her to proceed. "The sooner we finish, the sooner I can return to sleep. Now tell me what you see," Draco said, dully. "It should show your future."

"Bloody hell, divination says that about everything. Soon they'll say that cakes

show your dismal future," she replied nauseatingly, pouring the oil into the basin.

"Yes, I believe that's called critomancy," Draco replied frankly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Draco and peered at the shapes in the water. "I don't see a thing."

"You certainly aren't looking to score brownie points with Riddle. Try and be a bit more creative, will you?" Draco sneered, leaning back against his chair

Hermione gazed into the water for the longest time and just as Draco was about to doze off, she noticed something materialize in the water.

"I see snowflakes," she said excitedly.

"Snowflakes. Brilliant." Draco said dully, finding her improvisation real rubbish.

"I see Harry," she said, grinning.

"Right, and in female terms that translates to you marrying him," Draco said, knowing very well how divination worked in women's minds from the silly gatherings his mum held.

Hermione looked at him, aggravated. "Alright then, you're seeing people. _Huge_ improvement," he said.

"There's a ring," she said confusingly, recognizing it immediately. It was the same ring Harry had instructed her to catch in her dream. "It's on a necklace," Hermione went on, conscious of the twitch in Draco's hand at the mention of the ring.

"_Describe it!_" Draco demanded, sliding closer to her to view the liquid surface of the basin more clearly.

She shuddered at the feverish glimmer in his eyes. Hermione knew now what Harry meant when he saw Tom Riddle's charming appearance change drastically when visiting Hepzibah Smith. There was something more in those darkened eyes than curiosity. In that moment, she decided it was best to not inform him of the appearance of the ring in her dream.

"It's a plain ring of gold… nothing more," Hermione said instantly, but her quick response didn't fool Draco. She licked her lips nervously, returning her attention to the basin. It was plain for him to see through her lies but decided it wasn't in his best interests to pursue the topic further.

"Sorry," he murmured, grabbing his book and flipping through its pages to show his disinterest. More importantly, it calmed his nerves but the beat of his heart pumping at his fingertips continued on. Hermione nervously looked at him, issuing a sigh of relief to find him calmer.

At long, his eyes settled on one page. "Anything else?" he asked coolly.

Indeed, this reading had produced the most peculiar results. She continued to gaze at the oil. "I see a serpent."

"The mark of Slytherin," Draco said thoughtfully, "Interesting."

"Not necessarily," Hermione said.

"Oi well forgive me. You'll become a Parseltongue later on," Draco said sarcastically.

"You can't just become a Parseltongue," Hermione said, shaking her head lightly. She had read about the ability several times after discovering that Harry possessed it in second year. "It's hereditary."

"How do you explain Potter?" he said. Already marveled by her visions, he was somewhat prepared to reconsider her status as a hopeless case in the course.

Her face almost meditative, Hermione sighed impatiently while listening to the irregular beat of Draco's wand on his book. "With the exception of highly powerful manifestations of magic, similar occurrences such as Harry would be an unlikely find." Focusing her attention to the milky saffron liquid in the basin, she waited eagerly for the next image. "There's more!" she exclaimed in delight, scrutinizing the two figures materializing.

Instantly, she identified herself from the bushy chestnut hair but frowned at the other figure, evidently male from his build. Her heart raced at the sight of his overcast face hidden by the ominous dark hooded robes he wore. Who was this man against whose chest she so freely laid?

Her reflection's eyes remained closed with her head reclined and lightly pressed against the warmth of his neck. With his right hand affectionately placed in hers, his other arm was protectively placed around her shoulder in a manner that suggested a hint of possessiveness. Hermione bolted from her seat and adamantly gripped the sides of the basin as though willing it to show her his face. Draco fixed his eyes on her slightly trembling body, startled at her reaction. A dull light was shed on the mysterious figure's face to reveal a man that she very well knew. Feeling as though the vision had become too treacherous to observe a moment longer, she recoiled quickly from the table. The liquid fiercely swished to either side of the basin to her sudden movement.

"Bollocks, Hermione!" Draco yelled, checking around his vicinity to see that none of the liquid had landed there or on his robes. "_What_?" he exclaimed, concerned.

"Nothing," she said faintly. For a few minutes her eyes concentrated on the basin, and it would have seemed that even she, Hermione Granger, was at a loss to understand what she had seen. The vision in itself was a surprise, and Hermione reminded herself endlessly that she could proceed to ignore it since this was only Divination. She found herself, however, shocked at the unexpected disappointment felt upon realizing he was not the man she wanted. A hidden desperate longing had erupted inside her, and she was suddenly faced with feelings that had previously not been acknowledged.

An expression forming on her face, one to which Draco had grown accustomed whenever Hermione was determined to find answers to any questions she was dueling in her mind. It almost always led to an excursion to the library.

"That's enough for today," she murmured.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked, wondering what had unsettled her.

She looked at him for a minute and said, "A question has been nagging me since we arrived. Do you know why they sent you here?"

"I'm hurt, Granger. Don't enjoy our quality time together?" he said, pouting at her. Thumping his feet on the table, he tilted his head. "Clearly…," he said in a silky deep voice, a haughty grin on his devilishly handsome face. "_Clearly_ other students weren't as talented."

"Yes, or as _arrogant_," she said, under her breath. She pointed her wand at him and said sternly, "_Draco Malfoy_."

Immediately his face darkened. He did not take it too kindly when wands were pointed at him threateningly. "Dumbledore wouldn't send you alone. Who knows, you might fall for one of the Death Eaters or Merlin forbid, the Dark Lord himself," he snapped, opening a candy wrapper, "It's the Order's decision. I decided to join and this was the protection offered. A safe escape, wouldn't you say, from Death Eaters whose hands are probably aching to practice any of the Unforgivables."

"And you _just_ happened to walk into the picture at the most _opportune_ moment," Hermione said, looking at Draco suspiciously as he bit into a chocolate frog.

He leaned forward and looked at her grimly. "Are you interrogating me?" he asked coolly.

She opened her mouth to speak, but thought it best to not press her luck. Shaking her head in exasperation, she uttered, "I don't know what to believe any more."

"If my allegiance was to the Dark Lord, you'd be dead already," he said dryly. Throwing the wrapper into the air, he flicked his wand and it exploded into flames, leaving only ashes to fall onto the table. "I need a specific punctuality in my work."

"I know," she said quietly, but her doubts were still intact. Treachery had still slithered its way into the Order with Snape, and, as Mad-Eye Moody would have said, constant vigilance was required at all times.

"'Mione, _what_ did you see?" Draco asked, lifting himself off his seat. What had made her doubt him so much? His eyes glimmered dangerously.

"_Why_ was it serious enough to use the Unbreakable Vow? Something is missing," she said assuredly, "And why not protect you in our own time?" She paced the room, deep in thought. Stopping abruptly, she glanced up at him to find him staring at her intently. His hands were anxiously playing with his book again, "There's some work I need to finish," she said. Thoughtfully, gazing at the basin.

Hermione promptly collected her belongings and strolled towards the door. She paused and looked back at Draco, hesitating as to what she should say. His face was solemn and a coldness surfaced in his eyes as he drifted far into his thoughts, a steady grip on his book.

He stared aimlessly at the basin.

A cool drift entered the room and the door slammed, leaving the room feeling empty. He inhaled deeply, attempting to catch the last whiff of her strawberry shampoo but alas, he was deprived of that as well.

Whenever he was convinced that he had prevailed at last in gaining her trust, he would find her doubts looming and questioning his actions. He clenched his fist, baffled by her stubbornness to impart what she had seen.

Infuriated by her behavior, he shoved the basin over the table and sent a waterfall splashing to the floor. His eyes narrowed as he watched the foamy liquid seep across the hardwood floor. During the entire session, he hadn't been rewarded by any visions by gazing into the shimmering water. Only her face had been brightly reflected back at him.

Divination was a stupid course.

Later that day, Hermione was waiting in the common room for Tom who had sent an owl earlier to meet for their Astrology project. She mused that he had troubled himself to keep her warm the other night despite the fact she revolted him so much. She was piqued by his recent behavior to the point that it consumed her every night since then. It was inconceivable how he could save her life one moment and next, be completely indifferent to her.

Surely, he was not devoid of human response to the pain of others. In any case, Hermione struggled to unearth at least one more exception, besides herself, in which he had put himself in a difficult position for the benefit of another. Despite being unable to find any, there was a faint glimmer of hope for the future psychopath in the act of saving her life. One Muggle-born witch alone could not redeem the bigot from his vile beliefs, and could by no means wash away the blood on his hands. She sighed heavily, placing her book and star charts back on the table. The seven horcruxes ignited Tom's forlorn plummet into darkness and were unmistakably the point of no return for Voldemort's insatiable thirst for power.

The soft patter of rain against the windows returned her thoughts to the younger Tom Riddle. Indeed, a much less frightening character, however not one to be taken lightly. His past was quite colorful, to match the monster he would become, and while she sincerely wished to deny it, his story plucked at her heartstrings.

Despite his being forced to live in a dreary orphanage after his mother died giving birth to him, his magical aptitude was far beyond any average wizard or witch of that age. It would develop a superiority complex in anyone, a resolute belief that he or she could escape their dismal circumstances. Perhaps his heart eventually grew accustomed to the lack of companionship other than magic. Was this the reason why Lord Voldemort could not love?

Traveling further into his past, there was Merope and her undying love for Tom Riddle Sr. Alas, she was abandoned heart broken. Hermione struggled to understand how Merope's own son could not love and would rather die than to use magic. Or was he destined to be inept at love ever since he was conceived, while his father was coerced by the Amortentia potion?

Hermione was harshly brought back to reality with the deafening bang of the common room door slamming shut. Tom entered swiftly, rolling the cuffs of his white dress shirt, and approached his usual seat at the furthest point from hers. Tossing his robes aside, he nodded his head at her in acknowledgement. She nodded in return and continued to sort through her papers. This had become their standard way of greeting each other when there was a mutual desire to not speak.

For the next hour, both Hermione and Tom studied constellation diagrams and made notes without a word passing between them. "What's on your mind?" he asked suddenly, startling her.

He shuffled through his notebook, waiting for her response.

"Checking the planet arrangement from five nights ago…," she responded, continuing to analyze the paper.

"Not that, de Lioncourt," he said monotonously, still writing. "You've been staring at that table for a good ten minutes now, and you're doing that _thing_ again with your quill against your chin. You've done the same while daydreaming in class."

"I most certainly _do not_ daydream in class," said Hermione, blushing. She immediately stopped fidgeting with the quill which she had been brushing against her chin.

"My apologies," he said, calmly. "In Divination."

"Tell me, Riddle, do you usually make a habit of watching me?" she asked tartly.  
Glancing up from his work, he smirked. "Yes, when I need to amuse myself," he said.

Her cheeks heated up at his comment and the conscious feeling of his intense gaze clawed at her even after she looked away. His chuckled lightly and said, "If you know yourself but not your opponent, you will not always win."

"And if you know both yourself and your enemy, you will come out of one hundred battles with one hundred victories. The Art of War," Hermione quoted the book. He nodded in agreement. "You're quite well versed in Muggle literature considering your dislike of them," Hermione went on. "I doubt other Slytherins would be as knowledgeable."

"Once again, if you have no knowledge of Muggles, then you cannot successfully know how to…," he paused, and added with a devilish grin, "_deal_with your enemy."

Hermione shuddered at his words and the look on his face which hinted at his dark desires. "That makes me your enemy," she said softly.

Tom listened to the roaring wind outside and said, "Only when you support insufferable people like Rob."

"Quite frankly, anyone who takes pride from bullying Muggle-born students is no friend of mine," she said heatedly.

"_They _should not be among us. Magic is strongest when pure. Worthless students like _him_ tarnish my reputation in this school and must be eliminated for the greater good!" Tom snapped.

"Well how unfortunate it must be," Hermione spat in disgust, slamming her book shut, "that your equal is a Mudblood."

"I most certainly don't need you for anything, de Lioncourt," his voice thundered as he grasped his wand. "I am quite capable."

"How can you be so conceited?" she asked, fuming as she clenched her fists.

"_Conceited_ ?!?!" Tom sneered, throwing his book aside and rising to face her. "Look at yourself. I've saved you, and yet you question me." His hands firmly placed on the table, he leaned towards her from the table and carefully enunciated his words in plain distaste, "_You ungrateful_ _mudblood_."

Groaning angrily, she bolted to her feet and glared at him defiantly. "Yes Riddle, you're quite _capable_," she said crossly, "of being an intolerable egotistical selfish git who desires nothing than to make others lives miserable like his own and has a _complete_ disregard for others. You're the prat loathed by everyone at school who _cannot_ for the life of him win any friends and can _only_ entice the lowest and most dreadful morons to follow you out of fear."

She sneered, "Thanks for saving my life, but I refuse to make excuses to others for _what_ you are." She tapped her wand roughly and collected her items into one neat pile which levitated behind her as she walked briskly to her room's door. She suddenly turned around before closing the door, and said a low acidic voice, "You are nothing. I'd rather be with 'insufferable people'than a despicable, cold arse."

He stared intently at her door, his face livid.

**I'm sorry it took forever to upload this chapter! I find it hilarious that I write only when I'm heart broken… this time it's a long distance off and on again romance with a guy in Italy (seriously, my life is a fanfic in itself). I should stick to guys on the same continent as me. Oh well, I've got all the free time in the world since I've graduated from uni. **

**The quote in Hermione and Tom's discussion is from the Art of War by Sun Tzu.**

**Thanks to Stanzi for beta editing. Please review, your wonderful comments are the reason I returned to finish this story! **


	13. Manners

**Chapter 13 - Manners**

The next morning, Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast, chatting animatedly with Cornelia. In the meantime, Tom and Charles were speaking with Slughorn and by their heavy and forlorn expressions, they were not at all amused by their discussion with the Head of House. Slughorn encouragingly patted Tom's back, oblivious to the boy's repulsive shudder at his touch.

After being dismissed, Charles and Tom swaggered into the tumultuous crowd between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables. Tom's furtive eyes raked the Ravenclaw tables in distaste before promptly resuming his vacant expression.

"The stupid bloke needs to update his game plan if we're to have an effing chance of thrashing Gryffindor," Black cried out, in clear disapproval of their Quidditch captain. "Parkinson?! I can't believe Slughorn has the nerve to suggest the whiny prick to replace Dolohov."

"Dolohov should pay greater attention to the Bludger next time instead of enchanting his female fans," Tom sneered, spotting Hermione approaching them in the commotion. The sea of students parted instantly upon beholding the Head Boy's deadly glare, and many dashed to the nearest empty seat at their house table. Tom's wand was menacingly directed upwards at them, despite his arm being down.

With less luck and a great deal of more tolerance to the crowds, Hermione and Cornelia struggled diligently towards their friends. The latter lifted her head, and at once discerned a set of dark chocolate eyes glued to her friend. There was an order to everything about the Head Boy. His mahogany hair was always carefully coiffed, with his hair slicked back to reveal his ears. The clothes Tom wore were never creased, and it was only by closer inspection that one could ascertain they were secondhand. His overtly confident walk gave no indication he was an orphan.

Cornelia had never seen Tom Riddle stumble, and as a result found it highly unlikely that anyone in a proper state of mind would ever challenge him. In the past few years she had contemplated whether he was indeed human, given that he was seemingly devoid of any emotion. Judging by the inquisitive looks Tom was currently sending Hermione, she was wrong. He searched Hermione from top to bottom hungrily seeking to lure the mystery behind those hazel eyes. Hermione continued speaking with avid excitement, unconscious that she was intriguing the Head Boy with every smile, laugh and bounce of her ravenous hair.

Tom grew immensely peeved when a tall, grotesque-looking student blocked his view and made an effort to maintain his composure.

"Have they found a replacement for Dolohov?" the boy asked in eagerness. "I'd be more than-…"

"Yes, Nott," Tom hissed, trying to concentrate on what was occurring behind Nott. "We have no need for more imbeciles. Especially ones that would break the broom the instant they took flight."

Nott felt fairly snubbed, and was on the verge of protesting when he was forcefully shoved into a seated position at a nearby bench. Tom coolly strolled past him, returning his wand to his side pocket. Charles snickered at Nott prior to carrying on his grumbling, unaware that Tom's attention had once again wavered to Hermione. She was elegantly dressed in an asymmetrical indigo Argyle cardigan and beige woolen skirt. Her raven tousled curls were adorned by a silver vintage style headband with ornate floral detail. Tom's foul temper ignited at the sight of Hermione's radiant face, her cheeks tinged pink from her excitement.

He bitterly recalled her words from the previous night. Never had he been so vexed by another's opinion of him. Few had the true grit, or rather, foolishness, to speak to him in such a manner, and when they did, he dealt with them appropriately.

Tom and Charles gradually approached her, and the former frowned in concentration to isolate Hermione's voice amongst the students. She was avidly discussing the ten discovered uses of the phoenix feather, the subject of a recently published paper by Cedrick Barnaby. Of course, Tom thought, it must be the focus of her extra credit essay in Potions. Tom had selected the considerably more demanding and appealing topic of the twelve uses of dragon blood. It was a brilliant paper written by no other than his least favorite professor, Albus Dumbledore.

While the research was exceptional, there was no doubt in his mind of additional uses to the blood besides an oven cleaner and a spot remover as the old blabbering fool suggested. As Tom had suspected after researching numerous mythologies, Dumbledore had chosen to ignore the darker side of the scarlet blood. Other exhilarating benefits existed including invulnerability from simply bathing in its mixture and an increase in profound strength and wisdom through consumption. To Tom's delight, his newly acquired contacts in Slytherin had attained a few vials from the Antipodean Opaleye and the Peruvian Vipertooth. A small number of complementary experiments alongside his Potions essay would not hurt, and he could definitely profit from them. No one had to know, he thought sinisterly.

Black followed Tom's eyes and landed on his own object of admiration.

"Morning, Hermione," Charles said and in an afterthought. "Cornelia."

Tom slowed his pace, expecting Hermione to cower in fear after her emotional outbreak from the previous night but she merely glanced at Charles and smiled. "Good morning Charles," Hermione said cheerfully, her chestnut eyes twinkling at Charles. She then proceeded to her conversation with Cornelia.

Tom stood clenching his fists, absolutely infuriated that Hermione had not even made the slightest acknowledgement of his presence. Tempted to reach for his wand, Tom settled instead for watching in pure loathing as she retreated to her seat near the other mudblood, Rob. Spinning around briskly, Tom nearly knocked down a first year student who whimpered and ran away from the Head Boy. He agreed that she was not a weakling, but the fact that she had the audacity to ignore him completely made his blood boil.

'Why does it trouble me?' he wondered, `She's a pest that must be swatted.'

"Since when are _you_ on a first-name basis with her?" Tom asked Black calmly as they seated themselves at the Slytherin table,

"She offered to help me in Herbology," he responded, smirking.

"You don't_ need_ help in Herbology," Tom said seething. Black was trying to get closer to her, he was sure about it.

"I know," Charles murmured, unaware of Tom's sudden change in disposition, "but she doesn't." Charles grinned sheepishly, throwing a backward glance at Hermione who was sinking her teeth into a green apple.

Why was Hermione wasting her time on an inferior dolt like Black? Tom let out a low growl and sat sulkily at the Slytherin table. For one thing, they could be working on their astrology project. Or how about the Christmas ball they had to begin planning? Tom fiercely poked his fork into the scrambled eggs, remembering how she had called the moron beside him _Charles_.

Hermione _never _called him "Tom." She addressed him as "Riddle_," _a name he truly despised. It was as though she did it to spite him. Did she not fear his anger after what she had said to him last night?

"Devereux," Charles said, capturing Tom's attention.

"Morning," Draco said, nodding to both of them and sitting in front of Tom.

"Heard about Avery?" Charles asked Draco heatedly, taking a huge bite into his pumpkin muffin.

"Stop your incessant whining,Black," Tom snapped, jabbing his knife into the apricot jam and spreading it on his toast. Draco looked between Tom and Charles with widened eyes, but the latter simply shrugged apprehensively.

Tom grabbed his goblet firmly, drinking the orange juice in one gulp. He observed Hermione merrily eating her tropical fruit salad and every so often peering into the heavy book placed on her right. Patrick, who was two seats to her left, winked at the others. He stretched his hand to tip the contents of a sugar shaker into her filled cup. Before an ounce of sugar could land in her steaming coffee, the shaker jerked out of his hand. All the students, with the exception of Hermione who was busy reading, viewed it with some trepidation. For a moment or two, the shaker seemed to be safely heading towards the Hufflepuff table and Patrick heaved a deep sigh. Upon turning around he realized his mistake when a pile of sugar rained down on his head. Hermione burst out laughing and other students joined in. Her wand peeked out from under the table as she carefully set the glass shaker in its rightful place. Patrick shook the remaining sugar out of his hair and playfully hit her.

'He would make her fear him,' Tom thought crossly. Throwing his fork and knife noisily into his plate, he pressed a white napkin to his lips and stared at his uneaten sausages and toast. He was too preoccupied to notice both Charles and Draco regarding him in silence.

"Enjoy," said Tom impassively, having lost his appetite. He was ready to leave by the time the owls swarmed into the room, delivering letters and packages to students. A particular cluster of owls carrying envelopes with burgundy and bronze diagonal stripes caught the students' attention. They were dropped in front of a select number of students, including Tom and Draco. A second envelope, albeit much plainer than the first, fell on top of the other with Tom's full name written in cursive.

"Having another one of his celebrity parties, is he?" Black said staring at the colorful envelope, a hint of jealousy in his tone.

Draco ripped open his envelope curiously, wondering what Black meant. Upon viewing its contents, he understood perfectly. To Draco's surprise, gone was the anticipated thrill from finally being honored with his first invite to the Slug Club. All it had taken was a different last name to be accepted, and now the gatherings seemed a bit foolish.

Without wasting a moment, Tom glanced at Hermione and was not shocked to find her clutching the same envelope as well. He had presumed that Hermione would be in a sense of elation, but instead found her staring bleakly at the card while her friends congratulated her on being invited. This was not the usual reaction from a girl for one of Slughorn's flamboyant parties. It seemed as though Hermione already dreaded the event and could easily foresee the huge spectacle that it was.

Tom's lip curled and as he passed the unopened invitation to Charles, who unsealed the envelope excitedly. Reading the letter from the second envelope, a look of annoyance crossed Tom's face. He had been hoping to memorize the number charts for Arithmancy tonight, but now had a meeting with the incompetent toad, Dippet.

"Who will your date be, Tom?" Charles asked Tom, scanning the card.

Tom ignored Charles and studied Draco inquisitively. "And _what_, may I ask, did you do to deserve an invite, Devereux?" Tom asked, a definite edge to his tone. "Since when are you so chummy with the professor?"

Charles quickly explained to Draco about Slughorn's parties and Draco said, "Must have been my dashing personality," said Draco sharply and smirked as he spread some lemon curd onto his scone.

Tom looked at him in distaste before heading to his room. Was he jealous?

"Password, dearie," the huge elderly woman from the portrait asked.

"No," he said, firmly, "I mean _grindylows_." No, he wasn't jealous. It was undeniable that Hermione De Lioncourt had an effect on him but he would certainly not stoop that low.

Back in the Great Hall, Hermione slid the invitation into the pocket of her sweater, barely listening to Cornelia's excited chatter about the party. It was no secret to those who knew Hermione well that elaborate parties were really not her cup of tea. She could survive regular Slug gatherings, but once the dress code became formal and guests were required to bring dates, Hermione became deliberately evasive. Luckily, her friends had always been around to help in these pressing moments. Cormic McLaggen, her dreadful date from the last Slug party, was one hefty example of Hermione's dislike of these festivities.

Hermione returned her attention to Cornelia, who bounced energetically in her seat at the Ravenclaw table. The way her friend was clicking her ruby heels together made Hermione wonder if she was secretly Dorothy from _The Wizard of Oz_. Hermione inconspicuously searched underneath the table to ensure there were no Munchkins hiding.

"Why are you so glum?" Rob asked Hermione, worried.

"I can't go," Hermione said softly.

"_What!?_" shrieked Cornelia, rising from her seat and knocking over Patrick's goblet. Rob's hand jolted upwards holding a banana in defense. The remaining students in the Great Hall turned to stare at them. Hermione glanced at Cornelia uneasily, wondering if perhaps she was mistaken and Cornelia was the Wicked Witch of the West, coming to force her into attending the party.

"I have nothing to wear," Hermione said timidly. At her first visit to Hogsmeade, she had not purchased any dress to match such an occasion.

"Don't fret," Patrick laughed, "Cornelia has enough gowns to dress Hogwarts."

"House elves included," Rob added, earning a laugh from Hermione. Cornelia nodded in agreement, proud of her gigantic wardrobe.

"I really wouldn't want to impose," Hermione said modestly.

"My family owns a gown store in Diagon Alley," Cornelia explained. Hermione began to protest but she continued with a dreamy look radiating on her face, "Not one more word from you! Besides, Rudolf Brand will be there!"

"Who?" Hermione asked puzzled. Cornelia's jaw dropped in shock but she then reminded herself that Hermione wasn't too keen on Quidditch.

"Bollocks, Hermione!" Rob said, amazed that she was clueless about Rudolf Brand. "Newest player on the Heidelberg Harriers."

"It's Hermione, you dimwit," a deep male voice, "Quidditch and her don't mix." Rob looked at the person behind her unpleasantly which typically alluded to a prejudiced Slytherin in their midst.

A rigid hand lowered onto her shoulder, prompting her to turn. Draco wore his usual black robes and regarded Rob with an equivalent look of disapproval.

Stooping to her ear, Draco whispered, "Meet me tonight in the Room of Requirement. We need to talk." He uttered a few words she couldn't hear only to find Rob being smacked in the face by his bowl. It clattered to the table, his face aghast and covered deep in chocolate pudding.

"Didn't your Muggle mummy teach you not to play with food?" he said in a patronizing tone.

"Draco!" Hermione cried out angrily but Draco had already left, his robes billowing behind him.

Rob stood up adamantly, pointing his wand. He muttered a trip jinx and Draco, whose back was turned, stumbled and fell onto leftover food platters at the Hufflepuff table. Regaining his balance, he swiftly rotated around and sent small bits of scrambled eggs and bacon flying. Draco's usually sleek hair was sticky with red jam and a piece of toast hung from his sleeve. Giving them a scornful look, he directed his wand at Rob threateningly and said in malice, "Next time." Turning on his heel, he left the Great Hall and barked at anyone who stared. The room erupted in cheers from all those who despised the Slytherins. Rob gave a quick bow, sliding a finger across his face and tasting the delicious pudding.

"I don't understand why you're friends with the bloke," Patrick said, shaking his head.

"I do," Cornelia said, giggling. Rob and Patrick stared at her questionably. "Look at him! That's the finest, hardest arse I've ever seen." Hermione laughed as the boys jolted from their seats. Even she was sometimes appalled at her words, having expected Cornelia to be more conservative.

"It's begging for a nice spanking," Cornelia continued, her fist coming down on the table like a whip and knocking some of the food. A few strips of bacon and hash browns were thrown around but the boys had luckily vacated the table already, leaving Hermione and Cornelia alone. Rob and Patrick's excuses echoed at a distance as they narrowly escaped a full sizzling account of their rival.

"Men," Cornelia huffed. "Now where were we? Ah yes, I think my navy gown would look dashing on you. Oh but then there's the crimson one- "

With the details of her clothes settled, all Hermione had to do was find a date. She groaned in misery.

After dinner, Hermione leisurely made her way to the Headmaster's office.

"Horklump," she said to the stone gargoyle.

"Good evening Ms. De Lioncourt," Dippet said upon her entrance. "Please take a seat." Dippet gestured to the lone empty chair remaining. The other seat was already occupied by the heir of Slytherin who stared straight ahead in silence.

"Good evening, sir," she greeted Dippet and paid no heed to Tom's presence. Tom's hands clutched the armrest. Hermione sat uncomfortably near Tom, whose weight abruptly shifted away from her in his seat. His nose wrinkled in disgust, and yet he retained a calm front the second Dippet glanced up from his papers.

"As you both know, the Christmas feast is two weeks from today. I am positive that you will make a great team, being two of the most brilliant and exceptional students Hogwarts has ever seen," Dippet said and smiled warily, "To add to that, Ms. De Lioncourt, you are very lucky to have Mr. Riddle as a partner. Such talent and exquisite taste."

"Thank you, sir," Tom replied meekly, with an expressionless face. "I'll try my best to not disappoint you this year." Hermione clenched her teeth at the sickening fraud sitting beside her and the endless compliments he was receiving from Dippet which were now a norm at each meeting. As if it was not enough that she had to cope with this sham for every single professor at Hogwarts besides Dumbledore! Everyone considered Tom a living Prometheus, a victor for the wizarding race, when he was nothing but an abominable prick.

"You could never, my dear boy," Dippet said in astonishment. The Headmaster's blue eyes were too focused on his beloved student and failed to notice Hermione's look of sheer repugnance. "Your plans are expected by next Sunday night, and you may use the free periods of the following week to decorate. Good luck."

Both students nodded in return and thanked Dippet before parting, ignoring each other as they walked the empty corridors on the seventh floor towards their rooms. All of a sudden, Hermione's wand soared from her robes and into his hand. She revolved around in a frenzy to scold him but only managed a low whimper when Tom's long cold fingers roughly covered her mouth in haste. A door collided against the wall with a giant bang and she instinctively reached for her hair which was yanked forward into the empty classroom. In his mounting fury, Tom tossed her aside like a rag doll despite her futile kicks. Hermione shrieked when her head clashed against the edge of a bookshelf, a severe pain bombarding her head. Her headband snapped and fell to the ground as a drop of blood trickled down her cheek.

"_Colloportus_," Tom said with his wand aimed at the door to lock it.

"Give my wand now," Hermione said seething.

"I wonder what the great Dumbledore would think of his favourite student," he snickered, circling her body like a vulture as she struggled to stand. "Any idiot would stay alert at all times and keep their defences up."

Tom kicked her in the knees, causing her to collapse again.

"Only a _coward_ would disarm someone while his or her back was turned," she snapped, rubbing her legs.

"Thought I'd forget our little chat from last night?" he said, livid.

"Aww, did you return to your room and cry?" Hermione mocked. She laughed, but quickly moaned in pain when he tugged her hair again. Her head was on fire and she mused that her hair would tear from its roots if he could pull it any stronger.

Tom's ebony eyes glistened in the murky night light. "That's enough, mudblood!" he hissed darkly, positioning his wand over her lips and restraining her hands. To her horror, an intense pain ripped at her lips as though they were being sewn together. The burning sensation made Hermione's entire body tremble in agony. Her screams were muffled and the salty tang of her blood seeped into her mouth. She caressed her lips with a shaky hand to feel them drenched in blood

"Time for your lesson in manners," Tom sneered, launching Hermione across the classroom, ensuring she slammed into each table on the way. His demonic laughter filled the room until he released her in mid-air, and watched in considerable mirth as she plummeted. Hermione's body was lifeless, a mere tear gliding down to the concrete floor. Her mind and body begged for an end to his cruelty. She would have not hesitated to say those two fatal words, if she had her wand. She would rather sacrifice herself and rot in Azkaban than have her friends suffer at Voldemort's hands.

Tom progressed towards her with his wand still steady and fixed at her. His face had lost its charm in his rage and was horrendously contorted. "_Corpus Incendio,_" he muttered.

A burning sensation filled Hermione's body as though it was engulfed in flames. Her tears flooded the ground as she rolled in a fruitless attempt to produce a stream of air to cool her body. She panted, her forehead covered in sweat.

Tom perched over, running his wand along her jaw. "Enjoying it, De Lioncourt?" he said huskily, examining her terrified face. Hermione gazed at him, her eyes pleading. "Stop?" Tom asked seemingly concerned but his devilish look returned the moment she nodded.

"But we're having so much fun," Tom said slyly and yelled, "_Crucio_." Her body writhe in pain. She wept and began to wheeze. Death eaters had performed this spell on her but never had she experienced this amount of hurt.

Tom slowly turned his back on Hermione, and it seemed that he was unable to tolerate the sight. Once her body had ceased thrashing around on the floor, he returned his gaze to her. "You will not question my authority. Do you understand me?" he demanded. Tom grabbed her chin, a profound malaise overwhelming his stern countenance as he peered into the depths of her eyes. She looked at him in anxiety. Hermione closed her eyes and willed herself to control her incessant sobbing before nodding her head.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Tom yelled, incensed, and slapped her face hard. Waving his wand over Hermione's lips, she felt as though twenty pins had been violently extracted. The saline crimson fluid gurgled at the side of her stained swollen lips. Hermione gradually hoisted herself upwards, biting her lip to ease the soreness. She gingerly leaned against the leg of the desk, heavily panting. In the midst of the moonlight, the lioness maintained a steady eye contact with basilisk.

"Will you stay out of my way?" Tom asked, his grip tightening on his wand

"Yes," Hermione said faintly, finding it difficult to see through the tears forming. She blinked hard and watched the vile sight of Tom becoming clearer in her eyes.

Tom smirked and said in satisfaction, "Good. Now that is cleared up…" He motioned his wand in a circular manner over her lips and uttered a few words. The brutal sting rapidly subsided. His gentle hand slipped into hers and supported her throbbing body to stand. Lifting it to his soft lips, Tom stared at Hermione smugly and kissed her hand.

"Hope it was as much a pleasure for you as it was for me," Tom whispered as his lips crushed delicately against her ear. Hermione was not sure if it was from the discomfort in her legs or the warmth of his breath on the nape of her neck, but she suddenly felt faint. Tom abandoned Hermione at the desk and had already placed his hand on the doorknob when she muttered under her breath, "Go to hell, arse."

Tom's hand slipped, as though scorched by the handle, and he exhaled loudly. With a distinct edge in his voice, he said, "_Silencio_." Tom approached her anew with his head lowered, his eyes taking the form of a snake's slits.

It was only a matter of time before Tom returned to his ruthless demeanor and flung her against the wall. His body restrained her against the wall, and his wand sparked in response to its master's outrage. "Stupid girl! I've done worse than tonight," he said with a snarl. Tom gazed at Hermione, tilting his head to one side. "Shall I leave you a reminder for the next time you decide to open that filthy trap of yours?"

Hermione stared at him defiantly in spite of her suffering, "I'll _never_ bow down to you, Tom Marvolo Riddle." Her words at once incited him to restart his dark incantations, his face flashing dangerously. Closing her eyes, Hermione mulled over whether she would ever live to see Harry, Ron or her parents again.

"Let me hear you scream, darling," he whispered into her ear.

Instantly feeling the sharp slashes of a blade, her eyes fluttered open to find his wand methodically slicing her body. Hermione screamed in excruciating pain and he forcibly crushed her head into his broad shoulders to smother the cry. Her arms dropped hopelessly to the side in a vain attempt to push him away. Tom laughed cruelly, and feverishly continued his work. Hermione's right hand reached and seized his upper arm, her nails digging into his robes. This only served to entice Tom all the more. She gasped in distress with every plunge of the wand inside of her, giving the semblance of her flesh being removed for his gratification. Hermione's face was pale like fresh snow after a winter storm and she finally relinquished her grip on him in frailty. The blood saturated her cardigan in various areas.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Tom said proudly, taking a step back to admire his butchery while maintaining one arm on her shoulder. There were deep gashes meticulously carved onto Hermione's thighs and to her relief, the dark lord had not placed his wand anywhere higher than her skirt. She nauseatingly observed the amount of blood she was losing and her head drooped weakly. "What De Lioncourt? Dark Arts not your cup of tea?"

Tom's scornful laugh mocked her, and his features darkened. "Now be a nice girl, and don't speak a word of this to anyone." Hermione nodded promptly, shuddering when she glanced at him. He had won. She wouldn't fight him any more. She couldn't handle it.

Her legs were starting to feel numb, and she realized that up until that point he had been the only support that kept her from falling. Tom released her from his firm restraint, and she collapsed limply to the damp floor. She whimpered, her body throbbing in every spot. He elevated his wand yet again. Hermione panted in fear.

"Don't worry, I'm done with you," he sniggered, waving his wand in a sophisticated motion to rearrange the entire room. Hermione listened to the fading clack of his heels. The door screeched upon opening.

She forced her head upwards in disbelief that he would leave her alone to bleed to death.

'It's Voldemort. What do you expect? A get-well card and a teddy?' she thought.

Tom poked his head back into the room and grinned. His sinister face had been replaced by a charming façade as he mocked her, "You're smart, mudblood. I trust you can clean up after yourself."

Hurling Hermione's wand far away from her, Tom added innocently with a smirk, "I'd hate to get in trouble for your dirty blood."

Tom vanished without another word, the door gently shut behind him and her cries grew in intensity.

**That took longer than expected to post but it's much longer! I swear all these ideas keep coming and I'm always rewriting. **

**Thanks to all those who have read so far….and to those who reviewed - **SriHellgirl25, Readerforlife, Stephycats7785, Kochlida, Fizzy, Pink-Angel91, ScarlettxTristan, midnightangel09, georgievixen, XellamyBB, f4vivian, nicole317.

**I never intended on putting a violent scene between Tom and Hermione but it serves as a reminder that he's still evil despite saving her several times. He's not going to befriend Hermione that easily even if she's his equal. He can't stand the fact that she doesn't even fear him (well she does… except she doesn't show it).**

**If you like it, review! If you don't, let me know why. I enjoy reading your input **

**Toodles**


	14. Sleeping Beauty

**Chapter 14 Sleeping Beauty**

Hermione was mortified by the ocean separating her and the wand, and she mulled over how far she'd crawl before the heavy downpour of her organs to the floor. She would have gladly taken a stab at Riddle's juvenile game of 'Capture the Wand' if her failing body hadn't already made the preemptive decision to forfeit. Her ragged breathing invaded the perfect stillness of the classroom.

"Stupid prat," she mouthed in a huff, eliciting a nearly inaudible, dismal sound from her parched throat. _How dandy,_ she thought in torment. As if the odds weren't already against her, now she couldn't scream. Hermione shifted uncomfortably to her side, coughing up blood.

Her thoughts were momentarily diverted to Harry's long and solitary Horcrux hunt with the mental asylum-worthy Lestranges, greasy Snape the slimeball, and their sadistic Death Eater chums hot on his tail. Voldemort was the cherry on top, itching to snuff Harry out, and here she was ready to give her two weeks' notice: thanks, but no thanks. Sure, tonight had been a gruesome, short first waltz with Tom Marvolo Riddle, but she'd be damned if she let the lunatic have the last laugh.

With that in mind, the marathon to recoup her wand was off to a shoddy start. Hermione's body buckled from strain after a mere two desks. 'Oh come on,' she told herself repeatedly in encouragement, 'just a bit further.'

A sharp intake of breath later, she began slithering whilst extending her arm to its fullest length. After what seemed an eternity, her fingertips barely grazed the wand, managing to roll it towards her. Grasping the wand, she gave a vast sigh of relief as she gingerly rested against a desk. Positioning it above her stomach, she muttered thrice, "_Vulnera Sanatur_." The prickly sensations battered the gashes, similarly to a dire case of _Rictusempra._ Following a thorough examination of the said area, she found the gashes still bleeding a river.

Hermione exhaled in defeat. It wasn't a surprise that Riddle was dallying in the Dark Arts. In all likelihood, the countercurse was a fancy, convoluted incantation conceived by her wicked predator. Oh, Tom had definitely riled her now. Hermione took delight in envisioning Lord Voldie quartered and chucked into a food processor with a handful of veggies to serve as a scrumptious, healthy smoothie for Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts.

After a while, it became much more trying for Hermione to envisage how to scale this bottomless pit in her delirious state. Hanging by a thread with all false hopes obliterated, she at last empathized with the poor souls annihilated by the ghastly dementor's kiss.

Hermione's eyes fired up. Suddenly motivated, she mustered all her hope into a sole Patronus. A single, white, deplorable puff emerged, fading into the glow cast by the moon's soft pallor. "Blast it!" Hermione muttered, another bout of tears hitting her. The spell that might have saved her was the one at which she always fell short. But this only added fuel to the fire.

"Draco!" Hermione uttered. Draco was waiting in the Room of Requirement, and she was on the seventh floor! In renewed determination, she clutched the table's edge for support and staggered towards the exit.

Any thought of the fiery throbbing and soreness was kept at bay by endless reminiscences of her exuberance in receipt of the Hogwarts acceptance letter, and blissful hours with her circle of friends. In a heavy pant, Hermione propped herself against the doorframe and planned her next agonizing move.

The wall braced Hermione's slouched figure as she embarked on the tedious, lengthy journey along the shadowy corridor. She chanted Draco's name with much zeal in a fortuitous hope that it might be heard. The shivers set their slow, steady assault on her body, and Hermione was convinced that she'd faint soon. After taking a short break to catch her breath, she quickened her pace, using her remaining strength. In the vicinity of the blank wall, Hermione swayed, frantic and queasy, with her mind focused in its entirety on Draco Malfoy.

Twisting the doorknob with a clammy hand, she stumbled into the room. Physically exhausted and rapidly losing consciousness, Hermione registered a chair being violently flung aside. There was a distinct clatter of hurried footsteps as her name was called in a voice teeming with worry. Her hazy eyes detected Draco looming over her before collapsing into his hard chest, arms raised. Draco carried her with no trouble to a solid oak table, clearing the items collected on its top in one swift sweep of his arm.

"Hermione! Stay with me," Draco shouted, a sense of urgency in his tone. Distraught, he viewed the numerous slashes across her milky thin legs and the crimson stained attire. Draco slapped her moist cheek, which elicited no response. Drawing a miniature citron vial of strengthening solution from his robes' pockets, he forced it down Hermione's throat.

"Don't you dare drop dead on me," Draco said, hysterical with concern. His fingers patted her forehead, nervously waiting for her to wake.

Hermione gasped for air, squeezing his hand. "I can't," Hermione stuttered, "I can't stop the bleeding."

"Quit your worrying," Draco said in a soothing tone. Following a series of swirling wand movements and intricate incantations, the bleeding subsided. Hermione gazed up at Draco in surprise. "Oh for goodness' sake, the Dark Lord isn't the only one practicing the Dark Arts," he responded.

He proceeded to glide his fingers across the side of her ribcage, prompting an abrupt tortured wail to escape her lips at the unbearable smarting. "You've got a few broken ribs," Draco informed Hermione. "This will help the pain." Bringing forth a miniature sapphire vial, he administered five drops of cherry-colored fluid into her dry mouth, leaving a metallic sour aftertaste and anesthetizing her body within minutes. Assessing the grave task ahead for healing, Draco's normally buoyant confidence shattered at the plain sight of Hermione.

"I should take you to the Hospital Wing," Draco said in a dazed voice, throwing in the towel.

"No," Hermione said resolutely. "That would deter our mission."

"Damn it, Granger!" Draco exclaimed at her tenacity. "Your life is more important than some insipid old bore's frivolous attempt to end the war."

"Don't speak of Dumbledore like that," Hermione warned, her eyes sparking red in anger as she sat up, only to return to her previous position at Draco's will.

"You're barking mad, you know that?" Draco muttered in annoyance, examining her wounds yet again. Hermione cast him shrewd grin, knowing fully well he was bowing to her wishes. "Oh, don't you go giving me that… that face," he said, drumming his wand in a steady beat against her ribs.

There was a sudden crack and pop, extracting a shrill hollow cry from her. He rolled his eyes. "You're not just a bit panicked that I might kill you?"

Calming down, Hermione shook her head negatively.

"Is it better?" he asked, prodding her side.

"Yes," she responded. "I'm in good hands."

"Really?" he asked, questioning her sanity. "How do you figure that?"

"You're Draco Malfoy," Hermione murmured, a smile gracing her lips. Draco eyed her cautiously, as though she'd grown another head. _Don't get him wrong_, she thought. His ego bulged in gratification and pride of a woman's flattery and cooing through and though, but coming from a very obliging Hermione, it was truly out of character.

He studied the contents of the sapphire bottle tentatively with a raised brow. "This is some strong shit." Draco made a quick mental note to sneak several drops into Hermione's morning coffee when she recovered.

"There are a few potions I need to get," Draco explained, but Hermione shook her head in hesitation, tightening her grip on his forearm. The comfort and warmth of his hand caressing her pale cheek appeased her frazzled nerves. His thumb absorbed her solitary tears and in a softened tone, he said "I promise, 'Mione. I'll be back soon. Don't move." She nodded, reassured.

After a few minutes, Draco darted into the room frowning, placing a handful of potions on the side table. "How could you possibly feel anything when I healed your ribs?" he asked, tense and staring at her intently. "I gave more than enough of my best anesthesia."

"I don't know, Malfoy," Hermione answered, scowling. "Maybe you brewed it wrong." She didn't care to be her usual know-it-all self with the sudden bombardment of an intense migraine.

"I _never_ mess up my potions," Draco said tartly, impassively resuming his inspection of the gruesome depth of each gash with arms crossed over his chest. His eyes darkened, and his face retained a look of brooding. His jaw flexed tightly. "Unless…"

Lowering his head, the tarred flesh flanking the wounds caught Draco's eye and he grazed it. The smoldering skin singed the tip of his index finger upon contact and his quick reflexes jerked his hand away. Hermione's eyes fluttered open at his string of profanities. Draco stopped agitating, regaining his composure. "Say, Granger," Draco said while sucking his finger, "You wouldn't mind signing liability papers, would you? I imagine Saint Potter and Freckles won't be too endearing towards me if you die." Hermione rolled her eyes and he raised his hands in defense, "Just an idea, woman! No need to get your knickers in a bunch."

Draco turned his back on Hermione, glowering in recognition of the blushing scalded finger which confirmed his suspicions. Heaving a sigh, he leaned against the table in contemplation. These lesions were all too familiar to him. A haunting throb pierced his upper back and his eyes closed in remembrance of those brutal hours suffered at Lucius Malfoy's murderous hands.

For most people, childhood evoked harmonious, vibrant memories of never-ending merriment, and more often than not, their childhoods shaped who they would become. Draco couldn't agree more, but he had not been bestowed the privilege of a decent childhood. He became a man as soon as his loving father could pack a punch without cracking his skull.

The first time it happened, had been on a warm sultry summer night. Draco had spent a restless few hours tossing and turning, and no one could blame him. He was two days shy of his fifth birthday, and Mother had promised box seats to the semi-final game of Puddlemere United versus the Chudley Cannons.

His reverie had been rudely disturbed by his door smashing into the adjacent wall with a massive thud. Watching from the corner of his eye, his wild father barged in. Draco instinctively hugged the turquoise quilt to his chin and halted his breathing. A mad glimmer swarmed his dear father's eyes as they focused on his bed. Lucius lurched forward and the young boy shut his eyes in a hurry, foolishly assuming he could hide from this monster. Then his small trembling body had been wrenched and hurled aggressively to the floor, and so started the grand opening of many beatings to come. The rest was mostly a blur save for the assailant's putrid firewhiskey breath. From that day onwards, Draco learned the ropes of being a Malfoy.

During that tumultuous era, countless people suspected of allegiances to the dearly departed Dark Lord had their residences, and offices ransacked, and their privacy violated. The Malfoys were no exception, what with the Aurors' relentless theory of Lord Voldemort's right hand man, being Lucius Malfoy. Hence, it was no twist of fate that Draco's first true 'initiation' into the family coincided with the Ministry's thrashing of the Malfoy manor. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement had taken infinite pleasure in scouring every nook and cranny, devouring any crooked and dishonest artifact they deemed hazardous.

Occasionally Lucius would lighten the blow of his unruly son's disobedience by keenly practicing malevolent tricks taught by his master. The boy's soulless, spineless father would lurk hungrily in the shadows before plunging a blade into his inert back, watching his son's blood spatter in disquieting satisfaction. It was no knife digging and carving, but merely Lucius' wand. From trial and error, Draco ascertained that only dark magic could diminish blood flow and heal the wounds. Any human physical contact would be scorched, and if sustained for a longer period, set ablaze. Fortunately, Draco's mother was unremitting in ensuring her precious son was restored to his tip top form.

In frustration, Draco paced back and forth in a garble of words, frequently shaking his head as he strived to recall his mother's countercurse.

"Draco," Hermione said, her voice cracking. Draco approached the table, his face expressionless and stared closely into her worrisome chestnut eyes. His eyes lowered shortly to the subtle quiver in her rosy lips. "The pain is getting worse." Hermione's eyes shifted away, preferring him to not witness her fear, but he was already too preoccupied.

Draco clenched his fists, dreading the words he'd expected her to say for a few minutes now. The Dark Lord had made his spell nearly impenetrable. Pain relievers, as he'd learned the hard way, only made the curse significantly more poisonous. He scowled menacingly. His tardiness in identifying the injuries had radically worsened the affliction from the anesthesia. Draco clutched the edges of the table resentfully.

He was a Malfoy, a Death Eater, and plenty more deceptive than his father. Hermione was a Mudblood, a filthy imperfection on society, and best friends with Potter and Weasel. So why, then, had he taken the detour to the past, deviating from his orders? Sure, curiosity killed the cat and he was tempted to see what the past held in store for them. He did have Hermione trapped, and he definitely would pull the trigger.

Draco gave her trembling body an indecisive fleeting look; he was growing more apprehensive of shirking his duty when the opportune time arrived. His platinum blonde hair cast a shadow over his grey eyes, draping conflicted, foreign emotions which had collected dust and cobwebs in his mind in recent weeks.

Hermione was far too clever for her own good, and the most spirited witch he knew. Few could measure up to her. There was hardly a day at Hogwarts where he didn't wake in high anticipation of tormenting the righteous Golden Trio, particularly Hermione. Her cheeks flushed, eyes glistening in sheer rage, and a scowl that could shame the pitiless, aloof Slytherin bitches. Hermione did not venerate or envy the money at his disposal; there was no fawning, begging, sacrificing or praise.

Hermione's hand drifted into his, and a wave of comfort immediately drowned his anxiety. The clutter in his mind receded, prompting Draco to recap the words aloud as they rushed back to him.

"Can you sit up?" he asked keenly, fiddling with the potion bottles' caps. In confirmation, she pressed his hand and warily sat up, moaning. He climbed on top of the table in one brisk movement, placing himself behind with her back pressed against his chest. Beginning by cradling her hand in prudence, he recited incantations in a hushed tone. Her jaw dropped in disbelief when it healed fully, leaving her porcelain skin unblemished.

In impatience, Draco tapped his wand on his thigh. "Well get your kit off, Granger," he said brazenly, motioning to her shirt. Her shoulders became rigid and she blushed. He smirked in contentment; it was time to reap the fruits of his labor.

"You could -,"

"No, I won't teach you the words," Draco interrupted her. "Stop being such a prude." He ignored her protests and continued, "Believe me, it's nothing new and besides, I've seen _much_ better."

An indignant grimace graced her face. In a huff, she spat, "Sorry to burst your bubble, but Lord Voldemort doesn't count." She grinned in victory of Malfoy's affronted expression as his lips twitched in repulsion.

He regained his somber face as her shaky fingers struggled with the second button. Gently pushing aside her hands, he unbuttoned her shirt. Draco removed her cardigan, revealing a cream camisole with stained patches.

"I'll kill Riddle," he fumed, clenching his fists at the sight of her shoulders sodden with blood and the full length of her arms were hacked. "I swear, I will."

"Please don't," she pleaded, her eyes welling with tears, "He'll come back and-"

"You're the one wishing for students to stand up to the bloke. Gryffindor bravery, my arse," Draco said.

"This is _my _fight," Hermione said, her tone steadfast. After a short silence, Hermione said in bewilderment, "I've never come across this spell. I thought Riddle created it-"

"Don't fret, Granger. I doubt it was in one of those million tomes you read," Draco teased. Resting her head on his shoulder, she nibbled her lower lip. It was evident from the restraint in her eyes that it was only by great effort that she resisted further inquiry.

"Riddle passed it on to his closest supporters," explained Draco, to ease her perturbed mind.

Hermione head jerked in shock. "Your _father_ taught you?" she asked incredulously, provoking a faint chuckle from Draco at her appalled face.

"No," Draco said, with a grave expression. He glanced at her pensively. Why was he baring his heart to the bookworm?

"Draco," Hermione said in a compassionate tone, noticeably taken aback. "I had no idea. I'm truly sorry."She pressed his hand in consolation, but Draco withdrew it at once in revulsion by the pity reflected in the Gryffindor's eyes.

"For _what_? It's not a shocker Lucius was out for Potter, is it?" he scolded. "Bet you're glad to see him confined in Azkaban." The abusive bastard had his demons, but ultimately he was his father, and blood was thicker than water.

"Draco," Hermione murmured, her voice soothing like waves cascading onto sandy shores. She was now completely healed, the dried blood and tattered clothes as the only superficial reminiscences of the horrific injuries.

"I don't need your sympathy, Granger," he snapped, averting her gaze. In a higher tone he added, "Besides, Lord Voldemort has probably released him by now."

She stared at him, perplexed at what made him speak Lord Voldemort's name with such relish. Was it gratitude from liberating his father from the murky, shadowed depths of the dismal prison? Just when she strongly believed that a new leaf had been turned over between Draco and her, the hidden snake reveling in the darkness of its den would rear its ugly head. The two Slytherin princes, Riddle and Malfoy, had many traits in common and she could only conjecture if there really was any Slytherin who could be trusted. Then again, if other Slytherins had been in Draco's shoes, they undoubtedly would have not saved her, and would fantasize all conceivable means of augmenting her misery. Her mind insisted that it would be wise to unearth Draco's ulterior motives.

She observed him patiently tending to her wounds with a precision, care and tenderness she could have never fathomed him capable of possessing. She desperately wanted his intentions to be honorable. Calming the storm raging in her mind, she relaxed against his chest.

Draco conjured a bowl, saying, "_Aguamenti._" He cleansed the blood from her flat stomach with a tepid, wet emerald handkerchief emblazoned with an 'M', applying a gentle circular pressure around her navel. From that moment onwards, his mind was racing with thoughts of every trickle of water gliding down her supple curves, stroking and wetting places he would not dare touch. Bloody Merlin, he needed to stop thinking about her body. _Potter. Must think of bleeding Potter. Whiny Potter on his stupid Firebolt._ Oh honestly, why did Granger have to be so god damn irresistible? _Potter catching the Snitch_. When Draco unconsciously rubbed her bruises a bit too roughly, she winced in pain and her body would gracefully arch backwards ever so slightly. A bead of sweat slid down his temple as he watched her head recline backwards and her throat emit a moan. He soaked the cloth in the water, distracted by the sudden compression of her arm on his thigh. _Scarhead's fame._ Closing his eyes, he pressed the cloth against her abdomen and heard her gasp.

"Draco," she murmured. She cried his name with such eloquence, the first syllable lingering on her tongue to emphasize her need and ache for him while the latter heightened in tone before ending with another gasp. Her raspy voice exhilarated him, hastening his breathing. "Draco," she repeated with more urgency, sitting upwards and grinding her body against his. There was little room between her bottom and his crotch. He wanted her badly. Her hand clutched his tightly as though beseeching him to move it. He licked his lips feverishly. "Draco, the water!"

His eyes shot open to find her pushing his hand away. He had forgotten to drench the water from the cloth and watched in envy as it coursed down into her skirt. "Sorry," he said, trying to put some distance between their bodies before she discovered his bulge. Stupid Potter, useless as usual. He absorbed the water with a flick of his wand and began working on her shoulders, which were significantly safer. Or at least they were until her neck swayed with his movement. Then, more gasps. He slid off and moved to the side of the table, relieved to be in a better position to think. He stared at her thin, long majestic legs.

"I'll finish my legs," she said, her cheeks tinged in pink.

"You're as obstinate as a mule, Granger," he muttered, wiping her legs. He cleaned the blood from her knees, rubbing the inside of her thighs. Glancing upwards, he found her blushing heavily and gazing elsewhere. Despite his temptation to advance, he stopped at her skirt, saying coyly, "I think you can remove the rest." She nodded briskly, blushing.

He washed her mottled cheeks with light dabs. His eyes focused on her plump lips that were red like the succulent, ripe flesh of summer plum. Her lips parted, luring him, as he swabbed the area around and he was engulfed by the temptation to crush his lips against hers.

Hermione was his Delilah. She would poison him with her enticing lips, deafen him with charming words, suffocate him with those refined hands and scorch his skin with the ecstasy of her velvety skin. It was time he stopped denying it. He held the torch for this ravishing temptress. For a brief moment, they made eye contact, sending shivers up and down his spine. The handkerchief plummeted into the water with a splatter.

"You should get some sleep," he said immediately, flicking his wand in intricate motions. A four-poster ash queen sized bed appeared with an inviting navy down comforter and several matching pillows.

With a raised eyebrow, Hermione looked inquisitively at Draco, who certainly looked pleased with his work. "Never knew Slytherins were interior designers on their spare time."

He glowered at Hermione, scoffing. "True. I doubt Weasel understands luxury, considering the rotting slum he lives in."

"Malfoy!" she warned him reproachfully. In spite of her resentment at his remarks, she was thoroughly impressed by his talent, and was fairly positive that Harry and Ron's aptitude was limited strictly to rickety, uncomfortable cots.

Hermione gazed at Draco with some trepidation. She mumbled, her words nearly incoherent, "I was planning on returning to my room, actually."

His head jerked in her direction, his jaw open, and she prepared to bear the brunt of his livid refusal. "Tonight?! Did he make you barmy as well?" Draco shouted at her ludicrous proposal, both hands wrenching his hair.

"I most certainly will not give him the delight of thinking I'm dead," she insisted, appalled by the mere thought of Riddle.

Draco clenched his fists until they were pale balls. Tormented by his thoughts,said resolutely, "I don't like it."

"How unfortunate," she remarked mordantly. "I'm still going."

Draco huffed in annoyance of her obstinacy. "How noble of you," he scoffed. "You Gryffindors are as thick as you are brave." He fidgeted with the clasp on his robe, gazing at her in a sinister way, knowing he couldn't level with her.

Taking a deep breath, she stumbled to stand but was startled when Draco picked her up with ease, vulgarly griping and rambling about Gryffindors. Her long, dainty fingers encircled his neck. "Do you mind?" he barked, gritting his teeth as his chin nodded towards his leather bag. With a simple _Wingardium Leviosa_, it swooped into the air and she seized it with one arm as they began the long trek to her room.

"Oi! I know I tickle your fancy, Granger, but would it hurt to not strangle me?" he coughed, straining his neck sideways. Hermione reddened, apologizing in a shrill, inaudible tone and abruptly submerging her head into his chest.

When they arrived at the portrait, a voluptuous old lady sat on a chaise lounge snoring. Draco cleared his throat loudly, causing the woman to wake and put on her spectacles. "My dear child! Do you know what time it is? What's wrong with the girl?" the woman in the painting asked worriedly.

"She's sleeping and I don't know the password," Draco said, giving her a charming smile.

"Well, aren't you a handsome chap!" the woman said, looking at him coyly. "Why don't you give me a guess?" She winked at him.

Draco growled, "I don't have bloody time for that! Just open the damn door you fricking hag." The woman from the painting began ranting to Draco's displeasure, awakening Hermione who muttered, "_Grindylows_." Her grip tightened around his neck as she buried her head into his chest once again.

The door opened, revealing Tom gazing broodingly into the blazing fireplace, with two fingers around the base of a crystal tulip shaped glass half filled with scotch. He periodically swerved it while his other arm was draped across the mantel, an unidentifiable object protruding out of his solid grip. Dracostalked into the room, enraged and disorderly, his glare dangerous. Hermione gave a slight tremble in his arms but her eyes remained closed.

Riddle's hand twitched at their presence, immediately hiding the unknown object in his robes as he straightened up. He stared placidly at the portrait of Slytherin decorating the wall above the fireplace. Salazar Slytherin scowled in return, sticking his nose in the air at the sight of Draco carrying Hermione.

"My my my, the hero has returned at last," Tom ridiculed, clapping his hands mockingly. He turned, glaring scornfully at them and swirling his scotch. Maintaining his obstinate gaze, he raised the glass to inhale the aromas concentrated at the neck of the glass. "How chivalrous, Devereux." Tom tossed down the single-malt scotch. "Ten points to Slytherin," he teased Draco further, in a celebratory voice, "for saving the filthy mudblood whore."

"Sod off, Riddle," Draco snapped, crossing the room to Hermione's door.

"_Impressive_, Devereux," Tom spat, searching Hermione's body and finding only her creamy skin. "Where did you learn the spell?"

"I have my secrets, Riddle," Draco said darkly, his face emotionless. He opened the door and gazed at Tom. "And you have yours." Draco paused at the threshold to her room.

Tom clenched his fists in anger that his plans had been foiled. No one was supposed to know that spell. She was supposed to return to him, begging for him to heal her. And now, Devereux stood there, his eyes lazily dancing from Hermione's slender bare legs to her locks of curls messily cascading over his arm. He gazed up at Tom, a haughty smirk broadening on his smug, handsome face. The knight in shining armor leaned forward, placing a solitary kiss on Sleeping Beauty's forehead. Draco chuckled lightly, taking his damsel in distress into the room. Tom frowned, swigging the last of his scotch, watching the door gently closing to Hermione's room. He stared at the door, his hold constricting on the glass till it shattered in his hands.

Draco studied the well-organized room. It was decorated in tones of dark mauve and beige. Her bed was covered by a quilted bedspread with Victorian blossoms fluttered across in hues of lavender and gold. White slippers were neatly placed together on a cream carpet beside her bed. A tidy stack of books was on her bedside table along with a quill and blank parchment. As he approached her bed, he noticed a small frame with a picture of Potter and the Weasel at a Quidditch game. Draco placed Hermione on the bed, removing her shoes and lifted the comforter to her neck.

He caressed her forehead, whispering her name, until she woke up. "Drink this," he said, offering her a glass of blood replenishing potion.

She placed the empty glass on her nightstand and he was preparing to leave when she grabbed his arm. "Draco," she whispered, "Stay." There was a look of pleading in her eyes before she added, "_Please_."

Without hesitation, he kicked off his trainers, removed his clothing until he was only in black satin boxers. Draco slipped under the covers beside her. A strange flutter of elation crept up on him when she turned towards him and whispered, "Thanks."

In a few minutes, she was asleep with her soft breaths tickling his chest. His free hand grazed her face. Draco stared at the ceiling with his hands placed behind his head, assured that Hermione wouldn't be prancing to Tom any time soon with open arms. Without the apple of his eye around, Tom would be thoroughly pissed. A smirk broadened on his chiseled face. He was extremely pleased with himself. He had rained on Snake-Eye's parade, and the prize he so desired was within reach.

She looked so innocent when she slept. When he knew she was in a deep slumber, his face approached hers and he placed a gentle chaste kiss on her lips.

"Night Hermione," he said before succumbing to sleep.

**This took longer than usual to post since I was away on vacation. I'm glad that many of you enjoyed Tom's evil side in ch 13. I also don't think he'd fall for anyone that easily (only in my dreams).**

**Thanks for reading! Thanks to those who reviewed:**

**Georgievixen, ****seargentlambchop, LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIrL, zoey zink, ravenm721, limapickle, iloveapplejuice, sisi0205, Fire123, HerLastBreath89, scarlet witch extreme, Lilipop10122, Wistful-Stargazer(thanks for noticing the mistakes, I really have to fix those! you also made some good points about the fic), AnimeMangaFreak, Kimiko16, Chelseabaabyox3 , Kaelin **

**Hopefully I can post the next chapter soon (suffering from writer's block)! **

**Let me know what you think about this chapter, good or bad **


	15. The Sweetest Thing

Chapter 15

Hermione she frantically clung to Gilderoy Lockhart's arm, sensing that she was drifting out of dreamland. She grinned at his warmth and the stiffness of his bulging muscle. Slowly waking up, she still felt lightheaded with Lockhart's arms around her. _Wait, that's not right,_ she thought. Hermione's eyes fluttered open, gasping in horror at the sight of Draco in her bed and promptly removing her palm from his bicep. After a few minutes, she recalled why he was with her. Scenes of the previous night flooded her memory as she gazed hazily at the other occupant in the bed.

Sighing, Hermione arched her neck further into the pillow, stretching her feet until her toes connected with the edge of the mattress. Her cheeks basked in the pleasant warmth of the golden morning light flowing through the lace curtains.

Draco was sleeping on his side, one arm draped around her waist and the other under his head. One leg was aligned with hers, while the other was thrown between her legs. Hermione blushed hotly at the sun glinting off his chiselled pectorals, his broad chest heaving lightly.She nibbled her lower lip nervously. One of her favourite plays came to mind as she observed every inch of his toned body. _A Streetcar Named Desire_ featured the sex symbol, Stanley Kowalski, in all his finesse. She had the published version with Marlon Brando's picture on the front. Every girl swooned over its cover, so it wasn't a shock to find herself doing the same to Draco.

The beige bedsheet was below his rippling abs, concealing him until halfway up his thigh. _He _must_ be wearing something underneath_, she thought innocently. Her lips parted slightly in wonder. She looked between his face and the inviting bed sheet like a remote control, eyes widening. Peering warily at his face to ensure he was asleep, she ignored the sensible voice of reason crying for her to stop. She treaded cautiously under the heavy weight of his arm, her heart pounding. Securing the sheet between her index and middle finger, she slanted her head to get a better look through the tiny opening. He was wearing black boxer briefs. She sighed, from a mixture of relief and disappointment.

"Enjoying the view?" Draco said in a raspy voice, causing her to shriek, yank her hand away and if possible, become five shades darker than Weasley's hair. He admired her transition, wearing his trademark smirk.

"Oh, you. I can't have you nude in my bed!" she defended herself, narrowing her eyes at

him.

"And so you had to check?" he asked, his brow quirked. It was not that he was reprimanding her actions. If there had been even the slightest possibility she wasn't decent under the covers, he would have done the same. Even if it resulted in only catching a glimpse of her lingerie, at least it would put to rest the debate in his mind on whether the bookworm wore a pink flying unicorn print or black lace panties. His money was on the former. Merlin, the mere thought of her knickers made him hard.

"Yes," she said weakly, followed by a more affirmative answer. "Yes, I did."

"Care to confirm my size, while you're at it?" he murmured seductively.

"Sod off," she said, her cheeks burning feverishly. Oh, why did she have to check?

His eyes dropped to the side of her mouth. "Drooling, Granger?" he said, tracing the spot with his finger. "How very unbecoming."

Slapping his hand away in mortification, Hermione rubbed the area to remove any remnants of the night. "Speak for yourself," she huffed, pushing against his chest and bicep. "I'm no replacement for your teddy." His unrelenting grip forced her to squirm against his body to no avail.

He groaned a deep and guttural sound. "Don't mind me, love," Draco said nonchalantly, giving her bottom a light pat. "Carry on with what you were doing." Bringing his face closer to hers, he whispered, "It's most enticing."

Hermione froze as though interrupted by a boggart, throwing him a menacing stare. "Do you mind?" she said crossly, only provoking him to draw her closer. Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight. His breath puffed lightly into her soft curls as he snuggled up to her for warmth, gratified further by her fruitless protests and punches.

"I was cold," he rationalized innocently. "You're selfish. Hogging the bloody comforters."

"Remind me why I _let_ you sleep here?" she enquired in indignation, gripping the comforter.

"Quite simple," he muttered, focusing intently on the ceiling. He enjoyed every second of their bickering. There was never a dull moment. He leaned into her ear and told her, "You fancy me."

Hermione gave a loud bark of laughter. Turning his chin sharply towards her, she hissed, "While I may forgive your current behaviour, given last night's events, don't you even _think_ that I would ever openly invite _you_ to my bed in such a manner."

"Never say never," he said gleefully, winking. She groaned loudly, smacking him with a pillow. He chucked it across the room and began rubbing her back soothingly.

It was fairly amusing to him that she could have ended this debacle by simply grabbing her wand at the bedside table. Instead, her arguing persisted followed by random scratching and beatings. She was the type to move heaven and earth to attain the upper hand over her opponent.

Contrary to what his father taught him, Draco considered it an endearing quality in women. He hated a submissive woman. "Never allow me in _what_ manner?" he asked.

"You know," she answered weakly, waving her hand to fill in the blanks. She tried in vain to avoid eye contact.

"No, I don't," he claimed, shrugging.

"Yes, you do," she maintained, still fighting tooth and nail to escape his arms.

"I don't. Explain," he demanded slyly. "And I swear on my dear Aunt Bellatrix's life that I'll let you go."

Hermione snickered, having no faith in his oath. With tremendous effort, Draco withheld his laughter at the colourful slur of obscenities she muttered, including 'nutter' and 'barmy praying mantis'. He duly noted his favourites for future reference.

In suspicion, she marked all the loop holes possible before saying confidently, "You're not allowed in my room without clothing. You're not permitted to use magic against me. And you will refrain from any vulgar language or lewd acts."

Draco waited until he was positive that the list was complete. "That's it?" he asked haughtily, a spark igniting in his eyes. "So I'm still permitted to enter?" Meeting her halfway was acceptable, he schemed. Give her an inch and he'd take a mile. No woman was immune to the Malfoy charm. Eventually, she would cave in to all his desires. For the time being, he would educate her on the repercussions of letting her under his skin.

She nodded, perturbed at the sly gleam in his eyes. Had she forgotten something? He wouldn't try to kiss her, would he?

"Then, I can kiss you," he murmured with a hangdog expression, pressing their foreheads together. She hissed a profanity. Her lips thinned in annoyance and she jerked her head away.

"No, that's included as a lewd act," she informed him.

"It's not lewd to me," he stated bluntly, placing his cards on the table.

Hermione blushed carmine. Did he like her? Never in a thousand moons did she think a Malfoy would cross that line. She reminded herself calmly that every word spoken by a Malfoy should be taken with a grain of salt.

"You weren't precise in the meaning of 'lewd,'" he informed her.

Hermione gasped in exasperation. "Read the fine print next time," she retorted, followed by a series of grunts and yells. "Get off!"

Quick as a flash, he positioned himself over her body, straddling her. Lowering his finger gently on the middle of her collarbone, he allowed it to take the southern route. It paused at the top of her camisole.

"How about if I undressed you?" he whispered huskily, his eyes hungrily fixed on the movement of her breasts.

"Malfoy," she warned, glaring daggers at him, "Down. Now."

Placing his hands on both sides of her head and leaning forwards, he stared into her raging eyes. In a playful tone, he asked softly, "Do you usually go straight into business this early in the morning?" He sat up with a smirk, managing to unfasten the top button of her skirt halfway before being slapped.

Caressing his stinging cheek, he dragged himself off the bed at last. "Alright, alright! Don't need to get your feathers in a bunch! A 'please' would have sufficed," he sneered. Hermione, who whacked her hands over her head, entirely grossed out.

She bolted out of bed like a rocket, checking the timeand yelling, "It's 8:30!"

All the pain came rushing back, making her knees tremble. In the blink of an eye, Draco's arms had encircled her waist before she could collapse. Assisting her to the bed, he handed her more blood replenishing and strengthening potions, which she obediently drank.

He stood up from his crouching position, turning his back to her to open the folding cedar louvered closet doors with his feet slightly parted. Instantly, her eyes followed the trace of his spine down his muscular back, lingering at his firm buttocks. They were so hard that she fathomed they could be used as a cutting board.

Draco examined Hermione's limited wardrobe, discovering a laminated burgundy paper posted on the interior wall. In gold calligraphy, several items of their uniform were labelled including their usual black robes, skirts, scarves and the option of long or short sleeved Oxford shirts.

"Jeez, Granger. Do you keep an inventory of your lingerie, as well?" he inquired, searching her closet. "I'd much rather see that one."

"It's charmed," she said firmly, as though speaking to a child. "Point your wand at the items." He tapped his wand at the words 'white, long sleeved Oxford shirt' and a crisp, clean shirt soared into his hands.

Impressed, he continued assembling her clothing, arranging them neatly on her bed. After changing into his pants and a pair of black socks, he slid on his white shirt. Hermione gawked at Draco expectantly and then towards the door, clearing her throat. Unaffected by the suggestion to leave, he continued to button his collared shirt while staring at her. At the flip of his wand, all creases from his robes were removed.

Feeling helpless and at her wit's end, she groaned. Carefully collecting the uniform over her forearm, she left the safety of her room and was significantly contented to find the common room vacant. Over her back, Draco's footsteps trailed closely. The boy had real nerve! She entered the bathroom, simultaneously slamming the door on his face but his arm interjected. He growled in pain, rubbing his arm.

At that precise moment, Tom stormed into the common room with an expression of sullen resentment at Draco's unwelcome presence. He shoved his quills and textbooks into a leather bag. His nose wrinkled, thoroughly displeased by the new, unruly odour in the room.

"I'll be here, if you need _anything_." Draco avowed mischievously, envisaging that he was blowing the soft, soapy lather off her breasts. "Any spots," he continued, his eyes wandering downwards and stopping at her skirt, "too painful to reach."

Shaking her head in outrage at his amused face, the door banged shut loudly. Draco swivelled in his spot, raising his chin at the sight of Tom.

From the beginning, Tom had speculated whether Black had been right in admitting Devereux into the group. Instead, Tom soon revelled in Devereux's open mistreatment of mudbloods. It was far too often that he found himself doing all the work and sincerely wished his brainless henchmen could pick up the slack. Many pureblood students simply reiterated the prejudiced prose and verses passed by previous generations, and were too weak-hearted to walk the talk.

Tom had been at a loss to explain how someone as prejudiced as Devereux could demonstrate any tolerance towards a single Muggle-born. Regardless of their past together, he could not conceive how the bond between de Lioncourt and him could survive without being blood related.

Unfortunately, Devereux had made his loyalties clear by his _heroic_ rescue. The boy's finger was further in the pie than Tom had expected or desired. If push came to shove, Tom was positive that Devereux would place Hermione's safety above all else.

Still, Tom remained irked and baffled at how Devereux had managed to heal her. The boy had talent, without a doubt. However, that was not enough to produce a counter spell to a curse Tom had invented. This only heightened Tom's suspicion of the new students and escalated Devereux to a much larger threat than previously thought.

"Slept well, Riddle?" Draco said smugly, lounging contentedly on the pea green velvet settee near the bathroom door and crossing his booted feet. The Dark Lord had missed the boat for Hermione, to Draco's delight. He could hardly refrain himself from adding conceitedly, "I know I did." Resting his arms behind his head, he smirked at the other student.

"I don't suppose the other Slytherins would take it too kindly if they were aware of your dalliance with a Muggle-born witch," Tom snapped, his face like thunder.

"That reminds me," Draco said, his feet landing on the ground with a soft thump at his epiphany. He looked at Tom inquisitively, "Why haven't you revealed Hermione's blood status?"

Tom marched resolutely to Draco, launching him upwards by the collar. "What I do is none of your concern. Do you understand?" he scolded hoarsely.

All jokes placed firmly aside, Draco regarded Tom gravely. "Stay away from her," he warned. "Mark my words. If you so much as lay a _scratch_ on her, I will-"

"What?" Tom interposed. "Wag your tail and wait for a few morsels to drop your way?" Tom snickered, "It might work with her, but certainly not with me." His head hovered threateningly over Draco. Normally, his menacing stance would make most students cower in fear. Tom Riddle had no need of a snake like appearance to make him fearsome. The future dark lord possessed an uncanny ability to maintain a certain calamity to his voice even while angered. He never yelled to demonstrate authority.

"One would think you were jealous, Riddle," Draco declared offhandedly. The sinister look on Tom's subhuman face multiplied tenfold, rousing him to seal the gap between them. There was a loud gasp as Hermione appeared at the bathroom's entrance, dressed in her uniform.

Tom's scorching red eyes refused to leave his victim, whispering, "It would be wise for you to stay within Hogwarts' gates for Christmas." There was a sharp, smouldering sensation as Tom's wand was jabbed into his torso. "What a _shame_ it would be," he drawled, in a voice low enough so that only Draco would hear, "for you to go missing." Shaking his head in mock pity, Tom scowled at Hermione before departing for class.

Upon entering the Potions class together, a sea of heads turned towards Draco and Hermione, peering curiously before erupting into loud whispers. Not only did she already feel the heat emanating from her cheeks at the shame of her, Head Girl, being late from class, but now she was being attacked by a swarm of cicadas.

Hermione noticed a particular head of dark brown hair facing the board and twirling his quill in boredom. She sighed in relief at being saved from at least one arrogant scowl. It was one stare she truly couldn't cope with at the moment. One glare would be adequate to twist her hands around that long snakelike neck and squeeze the life out of him for escaping scot-free.

Slughorn turned to spot the root of his students' boisterous prattle, his eyes brightened at the sight of Hermione. "Gracious me!" he exclaimed, chuckling. "The head girl, late!"

Hermione squirmed on her spot, feeling as though she was being served as Sunday roast. The professor's eyes next settled on Draco, and he threw his hands up in exaltation. "_With_ Mr. Devereux." He winked at both of them, earning a few hollers and hoots from the guys while several girls glared at her in envy. Both Hermione and Draco distanced themselves at the suggestion. Despite his feelings for her, Draco was not quite ready to proclaim it from the rooftops.

"Riddle, Montague and Black appear to be without partners," Slughorn said, triggering Draco to sit quickly with Charles, his regular partner. Cornelia, who was normally Hermione's partner, was missing. Only Riddle and the black-haired, scrawny, mouse-like Slytherin boy remained. The 20 ¾ inch wand up Riddle's arse was too much of an inconvenience to deal with. God forbid that she should lower his mark.

Tom leaned back comfortably in his chair. James Montague was the worst Potions student, potentially even deserving a chapter in _Hogwarts, a History _for spawning a multitude of disasters. In second year, the imbecile's swelling solution sent half of the class to the hospital wing with facial blisters. Both he and his partner had spent two weeks growing back missing fingers at St. Mungo's, resulting in the latter student's parents transferring him to Durmstrang mid-year. If there was any hope in hell of escaping her first 'Poor' in Potions, Hermione was forced to be his partner instead of exposing herself to such peril. A wide smirk plastered on Tom's face, he thought of all the ways he could ruffle her feathers. From the corner of his eye, he coolly watched her stroll grudgingly towards his table.

A stool was noisily dragged from underneath the table and she plopped down, heaving her bag to the floor. All the students gaped at her in bewilderment, including Tom. Even Montague was staring at her as though she was nutty as a fruitcake.

"You do know who I am, don't you?" he whispered, waiting for her to take to her heels.

Hermione smiled, "Yes, I do."

Patrick and Rob threw her sympathetic looks. "Cornelia came down with the flu," Patrick explained apologetically.

In her opinion, why baby-sit a manticore when given the choice of a pixie? Listening to Slughorn's instructions attentively, she drew out her parchment and began taking notes. There was a loud clash beside her, causing her to jump a mile. The potion making hadn't even begun and James Montague had managed to break a flask. Indeed. This would be an uphill battle

Two hours later, Hermione stood over the cauldron, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Her hair was in quite a state. Frizzy and in complete disarray, she was forced to blow her bangs away from her eyes every so often. She turned the potion two times clockwise until it turned to a lime-green color from silver.

"Have you finished measuring?" she asked James, observing him carefully as he obtained the measurement from the scales.

He nodded. "And I've mixed in the grinded blue horned slug." Leaning forward to collect the ingredients, he handed it to Hermione in a bowl. Using her wand, she raked the bowl of Jobberknoll parts and found a blackish liquid at the bottom. Hermione took a whiff of the bowl, frowning. Placing the bowl on the table, she tapped her wand on the table in contemplation.

James shifted nervously, staring between the scale and the bowl, doubting if he measured it correctly. She closed her eyes, throwing her head back in irritation. "Did you put horned toads instead of horned slugs?"

James reddened and disappeared into the ingredients room, bringing back two jars. "I think I did," he stuttered, slumping down into his seat. "I'm such a failure."

Her face softened and she cheered him up. "Keep your shirt on. All is not lost!" She measured the last two ingredients again, dumping them into the potion before turning the potion four times counter clockwise with half a turn clockwise.

Slughorn approached the potion. "Excellent work, de Lioncourt, as usual." He beamed proudly at Hermione, considering it a shame that she was not in his House. He started to walk away when she cleared her throat and stared at her professor insolently. "Ah yes, good work, Montague."

"Thanks, Hermione," James expressed as though she'd hung the moon. "Do you think you could help me some time after classes?"

"Sure," Hermione agreed, grinning. It wasn't often that Slytherins expressed gratitude and the poor bloke reminded her of Neville Longbottom. James wished her again prior to stomping out of class.

"How touching," a deep voice drawled behind her, prompting her to turn around. Tom was leaning alongside a table in a cavalier fashion, observing her in intense scrutiny with a passive expression. So much for her plans to avoid him like the plague. They were the only students remaining, but she refused to tremble in his company and hastily squelched the flutter of panic detonating within her.

He stood upright, his shoulders squared. "Congratulations, de Lioncourt. You've got pathetic little Montague believing he has a chance in Potions, and you managed a great potion yourself," he said, in a belittling tone.

"Thanks, Riddle," Hermione answered, her voice dripping with venom, "but I don't need your praise." She packed her bag, refusing to glimpse once more at the egocentric brute.

"I said great, not _excellent_," he corrected coldly, advancing towards her, "The billywig was left in the cauldron for too long, but perhaps you were too distracted ensuring James didn't mistake scarab beetles for _Acilius sulcatus_."

Hermione opened her mouth, but upon staring fixedly into the dark mahogany orbs of his eyes, she sighed. With a minor shake of her head, she hoisted the bag to her shoulder. When she turned to leave without rebutting, he seized her wrist and swirled her around roughly. She stumbled on her desks and he pinned her against the edge of the desk with his thigh. Her other wrist was snatched as well while struggling to get a hold of her wand.

De Lioncourt's presumptuous verbal attack from several nights ago had riled him, leading him to rightfully teach the wench a much-deserved lesson. He wanted her on a tight leash. He wanted her heart to palpitate faster in his presence. The mudblood might have been his equal in magical capacity, but certainly not in ability. Her rescue last night had maddened him, but seeing Devereux leaving her room in the morning had left him incensed.

Breaking the silence, he asked, "Why Devereux?"

Hermione's head was feeling heavy and she felt faint. She asked weakly, "What?"

"Why did you go to _him_?" he asked bitterly. She gasped at his nails digging deep into her wrist. His head hovered over hers until his chin grazed her forehead. "Why?" he repeated in more of a whisper.

"Why not?" she replied angrily, in disbelief of his social retardation. There wasn't a twinge of guilt in his voice or expression. An apology would be a lot more fitting (not that it was included in Slytherin etiquette), but instead he was distressedat the idea that another Slytherin had come to the rescue. "Should I have let myself rot there?" Adding scornfully, "Would you have preferred Dumbledore?" He slapped her across the face, splitting her lower lip. A rage flared briefly behind his eyes as his hands hammered down on her ears.

She blanched in fear that he would crush her head. To her relief and surprise, he calmed down dramatically, prompting her to do the same. His breathing became shallower as he clenched his teeth and brought his face dangerously close. Closing his eyes momentarily, a glimmer of red flickered across when he reopened them. "It's a shame," he commented in a glacial tone. "You have such a low opinion of me."

She frowned. He did not seem angry. Repeatedly she ordered herself to reach for her wand, but his intoxicating cologne forced her into a motionless state.

Tom dropped his head until his cold cheek embraced the warmth of hers, his left hand resting on the small of her drew a shuddering breath. "But you're wrong, De Lioncourt," he continued, the deep timbre of his voice sending shivers up her spine. Her heart raced at his peculiar behaviour, stirred by the heat of his peppermint breath glazing her earlobe. His hand rested gently atop hers, so that each of his longer fingers stretched over her respective ones. She shivered at the ticklish sensation of his frosty fingertips lightly caressing the top of her hand, only pausing to rest awhile on her wrist. His cheek slid across hers until he was peering down the bridge of her nose.

Gazing into her eyes, his thumb roughly stroked the dents earlier induced by his nails, earning a soft moan. He suppressed it by crushing his soft lips down on hers but they remained motionless. Utterly stunned by his behaviour, it hadn't even occurred to her that she should pull away. His hands snaked up, hurriedly clasping around her upper arms and hauling her up onto the desk. Slowly releasing his lips from hers, he tugged her nearer to his chest.

"You're wrong," he repeated slowly, every movement in his lips clashing against hers. Her breathing accelerated to match his heaving chest as he once again pressed his lips, this time gnawing gently on her lower lip before sliding his tongue over it. The tip of his tongue lapped the blood trickling down the side of her mouth, swerving evenly in a sensual motion.

When Tom finally wrenched himself away, his thumb fondled her lips. He sensually licked the remaining salty tang off his lips, smacking his lips quietly as though exulting in its taste. "Your death," he murmured, his head tilted to gaze at her apathetically, "would be the _sweetest_ thing."

Taking a step away from her, he shoved his hands in his trouser's pockets. With a repressed smirk, he watched her grip the desks behind for support. Following a loud chuckle, he compelled her chin upwards aggressively. Clearly entertained, he droned, "My, my. You're such a hot-blooded girl, de Lioncourt. It's quite unfortunate Devereux couldn't join us. The lookon your face is rich." He traced her jaw line with a finger. Hermione jerked her head away, frowning.

"Hide it as much as you want, my dear," Tom said, obliging her head towards him again and breathing into her ear, "I know." Ramming her into the tables, he yanked the door open.

"You know nothing," she snapped, picking up her bag hesitantly.

"Well, then," he said, ignoring her statement with an imperial wave of his hand, "Run along." She looked at him wide-eyed, wondering if the boiling rage in her was enough to Crucio his angelic façade into oblivion. "Leave," he shouted, wrought with fury, "_Now_." Figuring it was wise to postpone the attack until she had fully recovered, Hermione hurried out of the room.

**Hey all! **

**Luckily my writer's block didn't last long, mostly due to your awesome reviews!! **

**Thanks to all those reading and reviewing! **

**JaceDamian23**(for the many comments!), **nicole317, ****rosemarie17****, tudor1, ****ReliableNarcotic**(thanks for your positive comments and I truly wish there were more Tom/Draco/Hermione fics out there),**Passing-Glance****, ****Lilipop10122****, Natasha, ****Noon's Phoenix****, ****Blood Blossom****, ****JEN-SVU****, ****ravenm721****, ****sisi0205****, ****Enchanting Breeze****, ****limapickle****, ****f4vivian****, ****Chelseabaabyox3****, ****psalmofsummer****, ****seargentlambchop****, ****LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIrL**

**This wasn't my favourite chapter to write since I was excited for the next one. I had to break them up into two chapters or else I'd be writing forever! **

**I agree. Draco is way too good! It's becoming harder to imagine Tom and Hermione together but I promise there will be more action between the two in the next chapters.**

**Brownie points to ****JaceDamian23**** and everyone who noticed. In chapter 14, I hinted that Draco has other intentions/plans (evil ones, muaahah). This is probably another reason why Hermione has her doubts about him at times. **

**Thanks again and let me know what you think. Your comments are so uplifting that I'm too busy writing fanfiction instead of applying for a full time job (which I REALLY should be doing). **


	16. Frosty the Slytherin

Two days passed after the rendezvous with Riddle following Potions, and since then Hermione had taken the liberty of skipping classes. Both she and Draco had agreed it would be beneficial for a much speedier recovery. Under tremendous suspicion from Madame Pomfrey, Hermione had been polite and successful in refusing every attempt the nurse made to assess her. As luck would have it, a few Hufflepuff Quidditch players had been severely injured after being chased by a barmy Bludger. The nurse reluctantly accepted her excuse that studying tedious, long hours without respite was the cause of feeling a bit under the weather. Most professors were exceedingly considerate, with the exception of Professor Merrythought, who had placed Riddle at the top of Mount Olympus while all others sunk below sea level.

In the late afternoon of the second day, Hermione ensconced herself in her usual cozy deep beige armchair with scrolled arms below the rose window. She skimmed through_Diricawl Dung: Quest in Invisibility, _unaware of the handsome boy pulling out his chair several tables away. Surrounded by books shelved against perimeter walls, the library's Eastern Wing was where she normally sought refuge from raucous chit-chat and socializing twits. Less studious students seldom meandered there from perpetual phobia of Madame Clarice; the elderly, shrewish woman who was the sole resident of a sizable portrait overlooking the desks. Chatterboxes would hit the ground running with her incessant shushing and grotesque glares.

In morbid fascination, Tom sat, eying Hermione from afar. It felt like a week since he had last seen her. With slyness and stealth, she had managed to eschew him. Two breakfasts, three lunches and two dinners had been delivered to her room by house elves. No, it had only been two days.

Skipping to the middle section of his book, he glowered. He couldn't help but feel a bit unhinged and apprehensive at her disappearing act. He scowled. It was already unacceptable that he admired her magical powers but now, he yearned for her smart mouth? In the most determined manner, he flipped the page and it tore near the book's spine. He would find the means to extinguish this mental torment she caused. To clear his mind of obscure and conflicted sentiments, he persevered in his reading.

Five and a half passages later, he was staring again. She paid no heed to the restless curl fallen loose and bouncing erratically over her eyes and pursued reading, her head lowered in heavy concentration. The quill's head would collide with her curl, setting it to a slow, hypnotic sway.

For the first time, he noticed Hermione's ringlets weren't feathery and shipshape. Any tinge of sophistication to her hair had dissipated with impending deadlines piling up before the Christmas holidays. Contrary to girls who devoted hours to the gaudy ritual of pin curling and rolling, Hermione had her wild and frizzy locks tossed into a messy bun. Quite unconventional, but strangely appealing nevertheless.

As he pondered the semantics of the passage on Lethifolds, he studied a crack engraved into the oak table. At the sound of pages flipping, he peered upwards and was entranced. He was convinced that she was still oblivious to his presence or otherwise, she would have scuttled like a mouse to its hole. He stared, captivated by the particular shift in her body as she crossed her long slender legs and the erratic manner by which her finger rolled over her lips. She was utterly mesmerizing.

He clenched his fists; glaring at the first year brat who was openly gawking at him. The boy reddened, entombing his head into the dozens of parchment in front of him. Regaining his senses, Tom gave a slight shake of his head. He would not allow himself to think of her.

Tom's head shot upwards at Madame Clarice voicing her irritation with a haughty, loud 'humph' upon espying an uninvited pest infringing her dominion.

"Well good day to you, as well," a male voice greeted in equal, if not more, displeasure, "Old slag." Madame Clarice huffed at his incivility and contempt, squaring her shoulders. She shook with such wrath that her spectacles threatened to drop at any instance from the end of her nose.

Draco emerged from the dusty, tall, elm bookshelves. He viewed the high cathedral ceilings and tomes on magical creatures in ennui. His nose screwed up in distaste at the dank, musty stench of books. It wasn't often that he frequented this desolate place. Unless for a sexual conquest. The search for the person of interest amongst the boffins didn't take long. On his few visits, he had learned Hermione's favorite spot and so his eyes mechanically settled on her.

"Staring is rude, Creevey," Draco chided, shoving the Gryffindor's head into _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _as he passed him. Creevey bolted from his seat, scampering off and slamming into several bookcases whilst battling the hostile and dangerous tome. Draco was relieved to find Hermione still focused on her book. Without a doubt, she would have hauled him over the coals for the act and he was positive that he couldn't bear another one of her silent treatments.

Draco swooped down on the chair's armrest, bit by bit stooping to examine her book and catch her attention. She glanced up, smiling mirthfully. His mouth hovered near her ears to whisper, causing her to turn a deep shade of red. She jumped up instantly, fiddling with her tomes and inserted them into her bag in a precise order. In high spirits, they departed the library with Madame Clarice sending another fleeting look of abhor in their direction.

Draco and Hermione were leisurely walking down a fifth floor hallway when they bumped into Cornelia, who was still pale from a bout of the Hornback flu. Patrick and Rob followed closely behind, looking sheepishly at Hermione.

"Feeling better?" Hermione asked Cornelia.

A look of determination swept Cornelia's face. "Aye," she said, "Taking a steady dose of shrivel figs and mandrake root for the next two weeks. You?"

Hermione nodded, "Much better."

"Great," Cornelia said, heaving a loud sigh and clasping her hands together. For the final sign of approval, she glanced at Draco.

"She's all yours," Draco said, inciting a high squeal from Cornelia. Hermione looked dubiously between the Slytherin and the merry band of Ravenclaws. Surely, any agreement between the two could lead to no good. Her eyes enlarged to the size of saucers. How could she have forgotten? Slughorn's party was in two hours.

"Good heavens, woman! I can't have you embarrassing me wearing some smock," Draco said smugly, treasuring her ghostly countenance. Rob and Patrick gripped Hermione's arms, apologizing profusely.

In a singsong voice, Cornelia ranted and raved about _Madame Pettywig's Lash Queen_ and _Blush Fatale_. The mere reference to makeup had Hermione writhing to escape. The last thing she wanted was to resemble a China doll with ten layers of foundation and fake eyelashes extending to the rooftop. Draco smirked in satisfaction, commencing his long trek to the Slytherin dungeons, a small skip in his step.

In full hysterics, Hermione yelled in unbridled fury, "DRACOOOOOO! Come back here this instant!"

"Do me proud, Hermione," Draco called back. A loud chortle ricocheted off the walls, leaving her to be manhandled to the Ravenclaw common room for a one-on-one session with the female students.

Tom gritted his teeth, pestered by the twinkling green and red lights bobbing from the ceiling. Instead of charming the Grey Lady into divulging the site of the diadem, he was forced to endure one of Slughorn's bloody get-togethers. A _Christmas _party. Another blooming reminder of the forthcoming festive holiday.

The stagnant, putrid stench of mulberry, balsam fir needle, cinnamon and pine cones polluting the air only exacerbated his migraine. With an ironclad grip on his wand, Tom pressed it hard against his thigh, preventing himself from crying _Expulso_ to the pesky, euphoric cherubs singing above. Quite frankly, he'd rather be incarcerated in Azkaban with pixies keeping him company. At least he wouldn't have to stomach listening to _The Twelve days of Wizarding Christmas, Rudolph the Red Nosed Hippocampus _or _We're a Couple of Slytherins._

Bitter and bored to tears, Tom glanced at his pocket watch. Only thirty minutes had passed. The sole purpose of the visit was to keep up appearances, and an hour of this abomination sufficed. He scoured the guests with a lackadaisical attitude. In attendance were the crème de la crème of Hogwarts. A combination of intelligence, ambition, genetics and acquaintances. There were also former students and associates of Slughorn including Millicent Bagnold and Peter Lufkin.

Black slumped into the seat beside him, stuffing his mouth with a Belvoir Crumpet. He merrily snatched a ginger-wizard from a stack of cookies being distributed by the house elves.

Slughorn joined them at the round table. "Any thoughts on plans after graduation, my dear boy?" he asked Tom candidly. With a buoyant air, his eyes twinkled in glee. "Perhaps a position in the Ministry?" Tom was positive that Slughorn was chewing over how he could profit from such a standing.

"I was considering a teaching position," Tom enlightened him in a nonchalant manner, taking a gulp of his hot tea.

Slughorn's cheeks dropped a smidgen. "But imagine the splendor and fame of one day becoming Minister," he pointed out, in hope that his beloved student would reassess the matter.

"I have no interest in the _Ministry_," Tom reaffirmed in an unwavering tone. Softening his voice, he added, "My only wish is that I can set as good of an example to my students as you have."

The professor brandished his hands at the flattery. "You are too kind. If you ever do change your mind," Slughorn said cheerfully, "I'd be more than willing to put in a good word for you at the Ministry. It so happens that I know Nobby Leach." He halted briefly; gazing around the group of students that had huddled around the table. Newcomers to the Slug Club had rapt faces. "Yes, yes. Ruddy old chap. In fact, we went hunting occamy in Rajasthan just last summer. My _sources_ say he's next in line to be Minister."

"Here we go again," Charles muttered, patting his belly and salivating at the slightest whiff of the fresh-baked sausage rolls being delivered to the refreshment table. To Charles' relief, the entrance's double door opened, bailing him from another dreary and humdrum tale.

Several heads turned in expectation of the newest arrival to the party. Charles sighed as Devereux entered in all his glory, togged up in his best black robes. Devereux was intensely more approachable and gripping than Tom Riddle, who sat like the regal statue of Ramses II and acted like saying anything extra than a one word response was a feat. Even at present, Tom was cranky to the max, swatting the evergreen sprigs thumping his head from the pillar behind.

"Ah, Devereux!" Slughorn cried out, clapping his hands together. "Join us!" Draco held open the door with a steady hand, waiting anxiously for the individual beyond his sight to enter.

"Oh, and who is your date?" Slughorn enquired keenly, triggeringthe first remote sign of interest from Tom. "_Ms. De Lioncourt_!" Both Tom and Charles jerked their heads upwards and were awestruck by Hermione's graceful entrance. Charles' jaw dropped wide, emitting a few crumbs in the process, and Tom merely stared. Resplendent in a lavish satin gown, Hermione was positively stunning. The plunging front bodice alternated between pastel peach and ivory. .

She smiled shyly at her professor before staring at her cream painted toes peering out from her peep toe stilettos, fumbling with her dress in growing nervousness.

"Will you stop?" Draco whispered sternly, smoothing down his robes. Her cheeks flushed and she nibbled on her lower lip. "You look-," he muttered, re-examining her from head to toe, "Fine."

"_Fine_?" Hermione screeched, moping at the extent of cleavage on display. Judging by the multiple wolf whistles, her male audience shared a different opinion than hers. "Ohhhhh, I shouldn't have worn it." Determined, she turned to change into more respectable attire. An unyielding hand grasped hers; lugging her back gently. A few precarious inches separated her face from Draco's chest and she was suddenly entranced by the scent of citrus and washed suede. Forgetting to breathe, her eyes rose to meet his ice cold, gray ones. Not blinking, he stared back with a vacant expression.

"The dress is tolerable," he reinforced placidly.

_Tolerable_, she thought, sighing. Men truly lacked skill in complimenting a woman's appearance. "It's a bit too revealing. Don't you think?" she observed demurely, "I _doubt_ they normally wear such things in this time." With the sole exception of Cornelia, of course. A spot on the cover of _Witch Style is Vogue _was high on the fashionista's priority list, if she was meant to become the Sophia Lorenof Wizarding London.

Unconsciously, Hermione reached to adjust the trim of her bodice higher over her breasts. Once more, Draco captured her hand. Both hands secured in his possession, he squeezed in reassurance ahead of releasing them.

It was all too much for Draco to bear. If he had his way, Hermione would be in the raw. Any mention of this would positively ire her, and while he thoroughly savoured her heated remarks, a sour date was not in his books. He squirmed, deliberating the 'proper' words. Pot face would know what to say, he reflected miserably. Fucking Potter, always aware of how to please the ladies with his battle scars.

Avoiding her eyes and strictly facing the decorated Christmas tree, Draco mumbled, "You look smashing." Tentative of her reaction, he gazed back at her in hesitation. Hermione simply smiled, her face glowing.

The ends of his lips twisted upwards for a jiffy, before he reprimanded himself for becoming too soft. His hands balled into fists, Draco blurted, "Only a _trivial_ upgrade from pug face Parkinson, mind you." Her smile widened greatly. Notwithstanding his puffed-up demeanor, this was high praise from him.

More at ease with his whole-hearted support, she immersed herself completely into the Christmas holiday atmosphere. There were wreaths of berries, raffia, grapevine and holly embellishing the wood paneled walls. From up above, silver and gold garlands hung while miniature carollers chanted her favourite songs. Plaid bows were attached to chair backs and glittering sprigs of evergreen and cedar were affixed to pillars. Floating candlesticks were lit throughout the room, conveying a soft, warm glow fitting to the festive ambiance. The fragrance of the festive season surrounded her and she couldn't help but smile.

"Well come on then! Don't just stand there," Slughorn said, motioning to the empty spaces facing Tom and Charles in encouragement. "Come join us!" Hermione gladly accepted Draco's proffered arm.

Strolling towards them with such refinement and class, Tom stoutly believed de Liouncourt could put countless elite pureblooded women to shame. With bitter enmity, he watched Devereux's usually stern deportment tremble and shatter at the sheer glimpse of his date. Without a doubt, the boy's affections were more than brotherly. It unnerved Tom. He fixed his eyes on their linked arms. Her immaculate eyes illuminated at Devereux's whispered secrets, kindling the sparkle missing since the seventh floor fiasco. Tom's fingers clawed into his legs.

Devereux had hit the nail on the head. Tom _was_ jealous. For weeks, he had highly esteemed Hermione's magical prowess, feared for her well being, and coveted every smile directed to Devereux. Her seraphic presence stood for _everything_ he was not; kind, upright and a moral compass that never pointed south. Simply put, the ideal for all that was pure and righteous in the Wizarding world. A lack of understanding in her character had brought on his onslaught of wretchedness. Why had she taken care of him when he was suffering from the spell? How could she turn a blind eye on his twisted morals?

Denial had been eating away at him for days, and the filthy lies and deception had only served to feed his mild obsession with Hermione de Lioncourt. From the moment he had laid his eyes on her, he had neglected the flood of mixed emotions. He couldn't come to grips with the yearning to touch her, so he had tortured her. Single-handedly, he had sown the seeds of discord and she was more unobtainable than ever now. No good had come from the blood and screams. Merlin, _her_ screams. Tom wanted them for himself, and him alone.

Draco pulled out the chair for Hermione and she sat with genteel poise opposite to Tom, placing her hands on her lap. She averted his eyes, too absorbed in the wine stain on the sheer table runner. Tom's gaze shifted to the thin silver chain around her long, pale neck. A lustrous pearl dangled from an elegant spiral dotted with twinkling garnet stones. His eyes slowly plummeted down the deep neckline and settled on the contours of her breasts, heaving from her breathing.

"You know Rudolph Brand from the Heidelberg Harriers?" Slughorn's rowdy voice asked. Tom's eyes jetted upwards at the player who had just arrived. Tom bestowed his customary plastic smile and perfunctory shake of hand. Hermione nodded while Draco eagerly shook hands with Rudolph, practically wringing the poor fellow's hand with enthusiasm.

"Mr. Devereux is an exceptional Keeper for the Slytherin team," Slughorn said proudly, "You should see his Wronski Feint."

"Ah yes, Horace has spoken a great deal about you _and_," Rudolph said, turning towards Tom, "Mr. Riddle." Charles Black downed his Butterbeer in sour resentment of his exclusion.

It was then that Hermione surrendered her plight from the aforementioned student and regarded the Devil incarnate seated in front. A shuddered breath escaped her lips upon finding him staring intently at her like a moth to a flame. The noise in the room suddenly dissipated when his eyes did not waver. It was strongly reminiscent of their staring contest on her first day when the mysteriousness of his presence had enthralled her. Now those piercing, spiteful dark eyes only induced sadistic, harrowing memories and the brackish tang of blood. Her hands clutched the material in her dress.

In spite of actively partaking in a heated Quidditch discussion, Draco sensed Hermione's restlessness and stroked her hand in a comforting manner.

"Why don't I introduce you to my mate, Grimsby?" Rudolph said to Draco.

"Brilliant!" Slughorn exclaimed, thrilled. Both Rudolph and Slughorn stood up and Draco followed, tugging lightly on Hermione's arm. Nearly halfway from getting up from her seat, Slughorn announced, "Oh Miss. De Lioncourt, I'm sure you and Riddle have plenty to discuss with the Christmas ball approaching!"

Eager to stick to Draco like Weasleys' Gluey Paste, her face whitened. Honestly, she would _much_ rather listen to Quaffle and Bludger talk. Coerced by the massive burden of Slughorn propping himself on her shoulders, she succumbed back into the seat.

"When we return," Slughorn said, beaming, "you can offer the Slug Club a sneak preview to the ball!"

She grinned weakly. More like non existent plans. Draco was hauled to the far end of the room where several young men were gathered. He glanced back at her with a twinge of guilt but had great confidence in her savoir faire.

Breaking Hermione out of her trance, Charles piped, "Promise you'll save me a dance, Hermione?"

"Of course," she responded, somewhat bashful that Sirius' spitting image had asked. The crowds had started to disperse, leaving only Charles, Hermione and Tom at the table.

"Quick recovery, De Lioncourt?" Tom murmured. "What _more_ must I do to injure those pretty legs of yours?" She gulped at his words but stared at him with bravado.

"I daresay," Tom said, leaning forward in his seat. A mad light shone in his eyes as he observed her like hawk, "You're looking a bit pale." He glanced at the boy beside him, "Does she not, Black?"

Charles looked between Hermione and Tom. "I guess she -,"

"Be a good sport and get her a drink," Tom interrupted, flicking his fingers at

Charles. Hermione stood up in haste to flee.

"_Sit_," Tom instructed with a wry smile, after Charles left. Hermione slumped back into the chair despondently, trying to regain her composure. In a last-ditch effort to escape the brute, she observed the dance floor keenly, her chin aligned with her shoulder. She waited and waited for a rude comment or threat to provoke her to leave, but Tom merely sipped his tea.

At the feel of his stare on her, she couldn't resist a sidelong glance at him. He may not have had the finest robes in the entire room but shockingly, she found herself rattled by his debonair appearance. His hair was more askew than normal, but it did not take away from his Adonis features. The high, prominent cheekbones shed a shadow on the hollow of his cheeks, enticing her to touch his smooth-skinned, symmetrical face. Her thoughts ran amiss, a potent desire to outline his strong, square jaw with the tip of a finger. Dark almond eyes set her heart aflutter, drawing a veil over his soul as his broad shoulders rested against the chair's back. Tom was an enigma she ached to understand.

"We'll meet tomorrow evening for the ball," Tom stated, calm and collected "There's a lot of ground to cover." Her jaw dropped. Friendly chitchat over tea and biscuits was not what she had expected in the least.

When she didn't respond, he snapped his fingers. "For goodness sake de Lioncourt, you're worse than Theodore Goyle."

The serpent had to rear its head eventually. "And you're worse than Grindelwald," she retorted, knowing it wasn't far from the truth.

Tom chuckled lightly. "Intolerable, despicable, an arse. So you've told me over and over again," he droned at the headstrong woman, setting his cup down. "Such a repertoire of insults, darling." There was a prolonged silence between them.

Tom groaned massaged his temples. His headache had grown to epic proportions. "Can't they shut their mush?" he said in a voice bordering on shouting, pointing his wand to the ceiling. "_Silencio_." The cherubs hushed, leaving a palpable tension in the air.

"What was that for!" she exclaimed, pulling out her wand.

"Do be serious," Tom said plainly, sucking in an astounded breath. "It's rubbish."

"_Finite Incantatem_," Hermione muttered, permitting the angels to carry on their hymn. "It's _Christmas_ carols. How unfortunate they're not playing _Frosty the Slytherin_ in your honour." she stressed, wondering what the big fuss was about. Becoming more solemn, she asked, "Do you reckon they take dedications?"

A slight smile played on the corner of his lips. "I'd rather much prefer _Dumbledore got run over by a Reindeer,_" he conferred. Hermione scowled at his gruff laughter.

"Believe me, the ball-"

"Will have no such thing," he interrupted, placing another silencing spell on the angels.

Hermione loved the holiday so much that she was humming Christmas songs by mid-October (besides the occasional _All I want for Christmas_ on repeat in other months). "Over my dead body," she said heatedly, and boy was she serious.

"That can be arranged," Tom said point-blank. Startled by his frankness, she flinched but was baffled when a familiar eerie glow never surfaced in his eyes.

Hermione chuckled. "A dead Muggle-born. You'll gain plenty more supporters. How _disastrous_ that someone else took the spotlight for the last one." She took fright when Tom snatched her wrist, inciting a few perplexed looks from bystanders. Visibly stunned, she glanced down at his hand and found him doing the same, an addled expression crossing his face.

Tom regained his thoughts, hissing, "Keep _your_ voice down." After the basilisk incident, he had been certain she would piece together the puzzle, uncovering his responsibility in the mudblood's death.

A sight for sore eyes, Charles returned with two glasses of eggnog, one of which he handed to Hermione. Thanking him, she took a small sip.

"Hermione," Draco's voice said behind her, offering her his hand. Hesitant, Hermione glanced between his hand and Tom. With one last heated glare, Tom began talking to Charles on Quidditch strategies for the next Slytherin game against Hufflepuff. Glad to escape the stark, raving mad Head Boy, Hermione fell in step beside Draco, turning her back on Tom's downright deadly scowl.

Tom and Charles joined the Slytherins at the billiard table. For centuries, the Wizarding world had contended they were the inventors of the pastime and the dirty mudbloods had nicked the concept after a few accidentally witnessed the game. The game was deemed a noble and prominent diversion for high-class pureblood families, who above all could afford to gamble hefty sums.

With a slight shake of his head, Tom leaned against a pillar and accepted the cue handed to him by his pitiful date for the night,Elladora Black. Many girls had wished for a chance with the notorious Head Boy and naturally, he had opted for the one with more to offer. He watched the flurry of her skirt as she took her place beside him with an overbearing confidence.

An impeccable taste in clothing, the stony-hearted girl was certainly easy on the eyes. More siren than a goddess like de Lioncourt, her pleated blood-red chiffon halter dress accentuated her hour glass figure with its empire waist and complimented her voluptuous breasts. Tom was the envy of the other Slytherins, and he couldn't care less. Elladora's appearance was wanting in innocence and sophistication. Her eyes were not doe-like, but vacant and detached. Her glossy, raven hair was curled to perfection, but hung lifeless around her bony shoulders. There was no urge to run his fingers through them. Every step she took was with precision, but it was not feathery light.

"Returning to London for the holidays, Riddle?" Abraxas Malfoy asked Tom passively. He acquired an olive coloured glass flask from beneath his robes, dispensing a respectable amount of brandy into his eggnog.

"There's been a change of plans," Tom elaborated calmly, chalking the cue tip.

As Elladora turned to face Tom, conscious of his steady stare, she made a futile effort at a smile. The ends of her lips twitched, making her appear ghastly.

Seizing the opportunity,Elladora placed her cold, skeletal hand over his. With disgust he threw it off in haste, mortifying her. Recovering rapidly, she piped up brightly, "You'd be most welcome at the Black mansion, should you ever change your mind Tom." Politely, Tom nodded curtly. False pretences were necessary to absolve any of his underlings' qualms. It fuelled their blind trust.

Upon noticing Slughorn staggering towards them carrying a wooden box, Charles abruptly passed the buck to Malfoy, who promptly hid the flask.

"I know smoking is not permitted on school grounds," Slughorn slurred,a tinge of red in his cheeks after a few too many shots of Firewhiskey. "But in light of the festive season, consider this my treat." He opened the lid, revealing premium hand-made imported cigars. "I retained these on my last trip to Cuba." In utmost appreciation, the students expressed gratitude, making avowals that he was their favourite professor.

"Not a word of this Mr. Riddle," Slughorn warned in jest, wagging his finger at the Head Boy. "Or my job could be on the line." How accommodating that would be, thought Tom. While a significant upgrade to teaching Transfiguration, standing over a cauldron and making remedial potions did not tickle his fancy. Professor Merrythought's position caught his eye predominantly more.

Making a clean cut at the cap's end of his cigar head, Tom responded, "Never, sir." Slughorn patted his back and took his leave to circulate amongst other students.

Elladora sauntered to Tom, holding out her wand, with a flame at its end, to his cigar. Taking no notice of her aggrieved expression, he used his own wand. Drawing in, he gradually rolled the cigar above the flame, forming a black ring around the wrapper. Taking a puff of his cigar, Tom waved towards the billiard table to commence the game.

Charles placed the triangular rack on the table and Tom broke. The light blue striped ball was pocketed and he proceeded to sink another two before switching turns with Nott. Some of the boys glanced up from the game, including Tom, at a hearty laugh across the room. Tom's eyes settled on Hermione, who was seated at a small table with two Ravenclaw girls. Reaching to cover her mouth, she laughed uncontrollably at one of the girl's comments, making her long pearl earrings jingle.

Supporting himself on his cue stick, Tom drew a thick puff of dense smoke into his mouth before withdrawing it slowly. In contrast to the front of her gown, the back varied in dusty rose and baby blue. The open square back revealed the feline arch of her back and his eyes traced from the base of her neck down the long line of her spine.

"What about De Lioncourt," Malfoy said, his voice muffled from keeping his cigar in his mouth to shoot.

"What about her?" Tom asked frigidly.

"She'd be a fine addition to the meetings," Charles suggested.

"_Her_? What a sorry sight! Truly cousin, I thought you had better taste," Elladora snickered at Charles, sending Hermione an insightful, critical glance. The bint was awfully plain and dressed like a banshee. Ravenclaw or not, Elladora was not thrilled by the mounting curiosity in the new female student, especially from her fellow Slytherins. "She is not one of us."

"Why do you say that, Elladora?" Tom posed calmly.

Flushed from Tom soliciting her opinion, Elladora said freely, "Clearly, she is fond of mingling with mudbloods and other blood traitors like herself." She chortled loudly. "Who does she think she is? An advocate for Mudblood rights?"

"Well said, Elladora," Tom agreed, holding the cigar between his index finger and thumb. "However, you forgot to mention that she doesn't have shit for brains like the rest of you fools," he added with composure, as though merely instructing them on the route to Hogsmeade.

After a long silence, Black asked, "Then should I invite her?"

"You will do no such thing," Tom barked, taking his stance at the table to make his next move. A bit more civil, he added, "As Elladora stated, she doesn't belong." He hit the white ball, knocking another into a pocket. "The Dark Arts would make her squeamish."

His circle of friends chuckled as Tom eyed the dark green striped ball, standing afar. He approached the table, positioning his cue. "That's not to say," he said, accentuating his words as he took his shot. The ball entered its hole. "You weren't out of line to speak, Elladora." He came within reach of the sixth year girl who trembled at the fury on his face, "I alone have the say in _w_ho is recruited."

"My apologies," Elladora expressed, her voice sounding slightly pinched, "It..it won't happen again." In grievance, she excused herself to get a snack, her head bowed.

"On your way back, feel free to ask de Lioncourt how you could raise your dismal DADA mark to an Outstanding," Tom taunted, loudly enough to stop her dead in her tracks. He laughed with gusto as she trotted in discomfiture towards the refreshment table.

Draco sat with booted feet propped on the table, chatting animatedly with Charles who was taking a break from the billiards game.

Charles followed Draco's line of sight to Hermione. She was dancing with Cassandra Flitwick, Peter Cornfoot and Penny Carmichael of Ravenclaw. "How does that work, mate? Surely, you must have thought about it," Charles asked conversationally. "Are you two an item, now?"

Draco's head jerked towards Charles as though he had made a lewd suggestion, saying a resolute, "No." Charles eyes widened in disbelief of his friend's firm refusal, not that he cared in the lightest. Finders keepers, losers weepers.

In a calmer tone, Draco said, "I asked her tonight out of mere convenience." Draco swilled the remaining contents of his glass before drinking it in one gulp.

Charles pursed his lips in satisfaction and asked, "And she doesn't tickle your fancy in the least?"

Clenching his fists, Draco responded with a huff, "No."

"Good," Charles said, grinning. He was already on cloud nine "I want to ask her to the Christmas ball."

The wistful gleam in Charles' eyes was quite appalling to Draco. As was his barrage of questions. How in Merlin's name did the berkland in Slytherin? With that in mind, Draco took full responsibility in bringing Charles' exalted state down a peg or two. "You're not her type," he said, being perfectly frank and stressing every word.

Charles snickered. "And what _is_ her type?"

"Non Slytherin. Buffoons with red hair and tons of freckles," Draco explained, waving his hand in impatience as though reciting the alphabet. "Oh," he said, lifting a hand and furrowing his brow in contemplation, "She has a flare for duck-walking Bulgarian Quidditch players who couldn't utter a word of decent English if their lives depended on it. And _scars_. She _loves_ scars." Draco snorted in irritation. Charles warily observed the growing malice and hostility in his flare-up, nearly regretting that he had brought up the topic.

As expected, Hermione noticed that the Slytherins had distanced themselves from the rest to facilitate conspiring. Draco Malfoy and Charles Black were certainly no exception to the rule. In an attempt to engulf their Grinch-like hearts with holiday spirit, Hermione strode towards them.

"Come and dance," she said jovially with a grin.

Draco merely gaped at her extended hand. "Slytherins don't dance," he said smugly, aghast by the offer.

"What a load of cobblers!" Charles stated, rising from his seat, "I'll dance." He had scarcely taken a step forward when Draco's arm blocked him, almost throwing him backwards onto the table.

"Shouldn't you be entertaining _your_ date, Black?" Draco remarked darkly, prodding his chin at Millicent Ackerley of Ravenclaw. A satisfied smirk playing on his lips, he was glad to have wiped the stupid grin off Charles Black's face.

Normally, Draco was not bothered by his date dancing with others since it meant he could escape the ordeal. A decent shag was all he expected. Yet he felt that this was different. It was Granger. Bleeding Gryffindor. Trotting all over his reputation. Draco sulked to maintain whatever remained of his pride before grudgingly accepting her hand, allowing her to lead him to the dance floor. Her hair bounced to and fro as she peeked at him over her shoulder with a playful grin. His heart skipped a beat and he forgave her for making him dance.

Or at least he did, until he heard the honky tonk music. "What kind of shite music is this?" he commented, crossing his arms like a petulant child. "I'm not dancing to _this_."

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Hermione exclaimed, "Everyone else is dancing."

"Well, obviously," Draco explained, feeling snubbed. "That's 'cause they're poofs." He was downright affronted by her implication that _he_ should mimic the chimps beside them by gesticulating wildly with his hips gyrating. Hermione rolled her eyes as Draco stomped off the dance floor. It was a marvel how Ron and Malfoy were never chummy in view that both were immature gits with a temperament of a woman and they were always throwing a wobbler.

She hurried after him as he approached the gramophone charmed to DJ the event. When she finally arrived, he had already rapped his wand on its cylinder. Hermione kept a wary eye on the gramophone as it evoked a frightful, ear splitting caterwaul. A gargantuan cloud of smoke was discharged.

"What have you done?" she harangued Draco sternly, her hands placed deftly on her hips. Numerous students gave him accusatory looks, while those at the billiard table briefly stopped to see what all of the commotion was about.

A loud, melodious voice suddenly spewed from the gramophone, one which Hermione recognized in a flash as _Unchained Melody_ by the Righteous Brothers. Her face blanched, she bit down on her lip to stop its feeble quiver.

"What, now?" he asked gruffly, alarmed by her extreme reaction. Women. They could never be pleased. "I'll change it."

"No," she said in a faint whisper. His eyebrow quirked at her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, but gladly took one of her hands. Swaying to the slow beat, Draco laid a sturdy hand on the small of her back. Pulling her nearer, he inhaled. He frowned. It wasn't freshly picked strawberries_._ More intricate, and yet still enticing. He couldn't put a finger on the precise scent.

An imperceptible sniffle disrupted his train of thought. Draco glimpsed down at the head immersed into his chest, her soft hair grazing his chin. Lips thinned at the peculiarity of the situation, his pride thrashed into the ground incomprehensibly fast. For her sake, he sincerely hoped there were no tears. Weeping girls were not his cup of tea.

Eventually raising her head, her twinkling eyes gazed at him, thawing the remaining ice surrounding his heart. "This was my parents' wedding song," she murmured, causing his eyes to widen. She continued, "My parents owned the CD and vinyl record of this song but my father always used my grandfather's old turntable, convinced it was more authentic." In realization that he was staring at her blankly, she stopped and apologized.

"For?" he asked with a raised brow.

Turning her face away, she spoke rapidly, "I'm sure you don't give a rat's arse about vinyl records or weddings songs. And I tend to babble when I'm nervous."

"Like now," he blurted, cracking a smile.

Sneaking a quick look at him, she laughed humourlessly. "Yes, like now for instance."

"I don't mind. Talk to your heart's content," Draco insisted. His face screwed up for a moment. "Save for anything school related." In one dexterous movement, he twirled her around so that her back landed against his chest. Pressing his warm lips against her earlobe, he whispered, "Tell me, Granger. Do I make you nervous?" Her heart leaped as he spun her around gracefully to make her face him.

"Yes," she said, inciting him to lower his hands to her bottom, "Nervous that your great grandfather might spontaneously transfigure you into a ferret from cavorting with a Muggle-born." She prodded her chin towards an oblivious Abraxas Malfoy. She added in a terse tone, "Do you mind? Keep your hands off my arse."

"Yes, in fact I do mind," he snorted softly, "I can't resist."

. "Oh, put a sock in it," she snapped.

Billiard balls colliding in the background, Tom remained glued to Devereux and de Lioncourt. Always perfectly in rhythm, Devereux masterfully dipped her lithe, agile body over the floor. Supporting her shoulder with his left arm, her back arched with elegance. Behind her neck, he held her right hand. Gazing into Devereux's eyes, she was pulled back towards him, landing gently against his chest.

His teeth set on edge, Tom took another puff from his cigar. For far too long, Tom had been licking the festering wounds from de Lioncourt's tactless, biting words. It was likely that Devereux was only a nine days' wonder, but seeing her with Devereux had filled his wounds with salt. He had to nip this one at the bud. How could she possibly find anything more than camaraderie in a low life like Devereux? Tom was far superior in wit, and even on the Quidditch field. He was the _heir_ of Slytherin! Thrice Tom had saved her, and still her opinion of him was sullied. He was hell bent on making Hermione de Lioncourt his.

High-strung and trying hard to keep his temper, Tom circled the pool table in a huff, figuring how to pocket the eight ball. Standing at the edge, he leaned his lower body inwards, gripping the cue slightly forward. Straight ahead, Tom noticed de Lioncourt pointing to the mistletoe afloat above her. Sliding the cue back and forth a couple of times, Tom gave a fleeting look at Devereux becoming motionless as her fingers swept the hair away from his forehead. Tom had never felt more alive with the raw feelings coursing through him. Nor had he sensed more lifeless when she tip toed, planting a soft kiss on Devereux's lips, one hand caressing the scoundrel's cheek. The cue ball clashed with the other balls, stopping far from the eight ball.

**Hey all, **

**I had to find a replacement beta reader for this chapter…which led to a longer than expected delay. BUT BUT BUT close to 7000 words on this one!?!! It took me forever. Future chapters will be shorter so that I can update faster. We both agree? **

**Chapter 15, 16 and 17 should all revolve around this xmas party (and what happens afterwards). I might start posting updates on my Profile page for the next chapters (just to keep you informed that I'm still alive and writing… especially since this fic has taken me so long. Thanks to nicolerools for reminding me). **

**I guess technically Hermione should be a bit more fearful of Tom after that incident, but I figured she would refuse to 'hide' all the time. Some of you commented on having Hermione stand up to Tom (and kick his ass). I'm sure this will come up more in the future bc she's definitely not going to let him walk all over her. **

- Main goal of this chapter was to show that Tom is infatuated with Hermione and FINALLY admits it. Men are so dumb at times; it takes them a billion years to realize things

- Yes, Draco and Hermione are great together. Tom and Hermione will be better, I promise.

(My theory: Tom makes Draco look like a nice guy. Nice guys finish last.)

- Next chapter is at least 60% Tom-Hermione action, if not more (depending how long I keep it).

- For those not happy with Tom's behaviour, it was my intention to make him that sinister and confusing. Lord Voldemort didn't just become 'evil' overnight.

- Imagine, this is the first girl….nevermind that, the first person….that Tom has ever had feelings for. The combination of his anger at her low opinion of him and the strong desire for her, are too confusing and new for him. So he was in denial. In his twisted way, torturing her sort of gave an excuse to be with her. I don't know if that makes sense…

-Yes, this is a love triangle fic. If you don't like love triangles, I don't know why you read this far. That doesn't mean HG lands up with DM, you'll just have to see

_Thanks for all your great comments! _

**Kimiko16, XxMeGaMixX, ReliableNarcotic, iloveapplejuice, nicolerools**_(haha, yea 5 years is pretty bad but at least I'm finished university now)_ **, happynat2000 **(_it's part of the plot, I'd have to kill you if I told you_)**, Chelseabaabyox3, Blue Wonderland **_(haha, maybe I could work a seer mermaid into the fic)_,** f4vivian, a, Ekaterina2324, JEN-SVU, AnimeMangaFreak, ravenm721, Mindori Takahashi, Passing-Glance **_(lol at your comment about it being like S&M)_**, DBM33, sarahr85**(don't worry, Tom won't give her up without a fight :P)


	17. You and Me

Inspiration song: You and Me, by Lifehouse

**Chapter 17 – You and Me **

A couple of dances with Draco had worked up a thirst for Hermione and she excused herself. At the refreshment table, she poured herself a cup of lavender flower tea and sprinkled a touch of cinnamon. Supported by the table edge, she was resting her mistreated feet when Slughorn approached with Tom.

"Enjoying yourself, Miss. de Lioncourt?" Slughorn asked merrily.

"Yes," she replied in high spirits.

In what may have been a shot at a whisper, but was loud and clear (bearing in mind he was seven sheets to the wind), Slughorn advised, "A word to the wise, keep Mr. Devereux at bay and those Gryffindor foxes might strike." Hermione set her eyes on Victoria Hooper and Angelina Coote, who were batting their eyelashes at Draco while puffing out their bosoms like proud lionesses. Slughorn winked suggestively, filling her with distaste at the inappropriateness of his counsel.

"No, no," Hermione stammered, groaning inwardly, wishing she could escape, "We're here as _friends_." Only Tom Riddle was in sight, and the chances of him saving the day were as probable as merpeople flying on brooms.

"Right, right," Slughorn said, "Keeping it casual, are you?" A colossal elbow from him almost sent her airborne into the custard tart. "An oooooopeeeeeen relationship? Is that what you lads and lasses call it?"

Slughorn turned to Tom, who appeared to be revelling in her humiliation, saying, "Having her cake and eating it too. Clever minx, is she not?" Hermione became several shades redder, and if Elladora Black had been in close proximity, her gown surely would have provided decent camouflage.

"Does she not look riveting?" Slughorn commented to Tom, who gave a brief nod. Picking up where he left off, he said to Hermione, "I never figured you to be one in vogue. I suppose you'll have another stunner for the ball next week!"

Once again Slughorn 'attempted' to lower his voice, asking her, "I don't reckon you've chosen your date, have you? Playing the field? Mmmhhhmmm?" He spread his arms in exaggeration, nearly making her lose her balance. "Well, have you?"

"No," Hermione responded weakly, causing him to guffaw with delight.

"Might I make a suggestion?" Slughorn asked. She refrained from yelling 'no' and prepared to turn a deaf ear to his advice.

"Mr. Riddle," he proposed, giving the Slytherin student a generous pat on the back. Tom seemed to have caught a frog in his throat by the way he erupted into a severe coughing fit. Her lips parted a little, Hermione stood motionless, gaping at the professor with a teacup halfway to her lips.

"What say you? Two of Hogwarts' finest students together at the Christmas ball! You two would make a nifty pair. Perhaps a better choice than _another_ Slytherin." Slughorn insinuated, nudging her, "If you catch my drift."

"Professor," Tom said, fairly suddenly and with all the innocence in the world, "We're running low on eggnog and custard tart." With a blatant air of confusion, Slughorn frowned at Tom for unexpectedly turning the conversation. A pinch irritated and having taken tremendous offence at his professor's drivel, Tom stared at Slughorn expectantly, waiting for him to take his leave.

Hermione glanced at the table sceptically, sure there had been an abundance of the named items. The platters were indeed empty and she took note of Tom's wand peeking out from the long arms of his robes.

Slughorn scrutinized the beverages and snacks, agreeing, "Right you are. Better get the elves on that." He departed, leaving a wretched silence between Tom and Hermione. The latter sighed in relief. Feeling the need to be doing anything to lighten the awkwardness, she took a huge bite from a ginger snap. Tom was admittedly thinking the same, and snatched a slice of rhubarb pie. She stared impassively at Peter Cornfoot performing the Shopping Cart on the dance floor.

"Any moment now," Tom proposed conceitedly with a minute stir of his hand, "Please feel free to express your gratitude."

Pompous git. Impelled by the urge to smother him with the dining cloth, it was only with whopping restraint that she stopped herself. Christmas would sure come a whole lot sooner, if she had.

"Save me the trouble! You were just as eager to get out of that one," she spat and mocked him, "How _could_ you possibly be incriminated of _cavorting_ with a Muggle-born. Such a travesty!"

"On the contrary," Tom said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. "If I were to ask you to the Christmas ball, would you consider?" Sceptical, Hermione scrutinized his pie. Of course, the elves wouldn't sneak in any mind-altering ingredients. But, she could not recall seeing him so tense, despite his haughty conduct, and he was having great success at forestalling any eye contact.

"After you've repeatedly wished a fate worse than death for me?" she sniggered.

"As I thought," Tom said, dwelling for a moment. "You're no barrel of laughs, de Lioncourt. How could I _possibly_ kill you in cold blood?"

"Cut the crap, Riddle. You certainly don't smell like roses to me," she barked, "I'd rather ask a troll as my date."

"My sincerest regrets that you feel that way." Tom drawled, "Remember, dove, all's fair in love and war." He started to walk away, but turned around at once.

"Oh, yes," he said in a manner that was too charming for his type, "You _do_ look quite fetching tonight." Hermione nearly choked on her drink. "As usual. Cheers." He raised his glass to her and stormed off in the opposite direction, leaving her with her mouth wide open.

She blushed with the illuminating epiphany that perhaps Tom wasn't toying with her, but being brutally honest. Her hand shook at the absolute horror of the notion, spilling some of her tea. With a furrowed brow, she set her cup on the table to get a grip. Reaching to the stack of napkins behind her, she wiped her hand.

"What happened? You look like you could be knocked down with a feather," Draco observed, approaching to fill his glass.

"Nothing," Hermione blurted, biting her tongue and changing topics.

On the opposite end of the room, Tom signalled to Abraxas Malfoy, who at once strode to his side. Focused entirely on Devereux chatting with Hermione, Tom commented to Abraxas, "How sickening. Waiting for her to throw him a bone."

"Both from elite pureblood families," Abraxas said, viewing the couple in discussion, "Quite honestly, they are a good match."

"Did I ask your opinion?" Tom retorted, glaring daggers at Abraxas. "Get the love-struck fool out of my sight," he ordered in undying contempt.

Abraxas looked at him dubiously, saying, "What did he do?" Tom's head snapped towards him, scowling. "Right, I'll get on that," Abraxas said, hurrying away.

With Draco meeting with Abraxas, Hermione sauntered to the balcony, greeting the chilly fall evening air with a warm smile. It was a pleasant and refreshing breather from the peals of laughter, the clamorous music and the dull roar of banter. Gripping the railing, she gazed at the shadowy outline of shoreline trees along the still, glassy lake.

Hermione turned around with an inquisitive face, a slight hunch her name had been called. Finding the balcony deserted, she peered over her shoulder into the room at the hustle and bustle of partygoers. Charles had his back to her and was listening to Tom. The latter locked eyes with her and forthwith stopped his sentence. Becoming conscious that she was staring, Hermione instantly snapped her attention back towards the lake. A northwester wind whistled as her eyes roved through the Forbidden Forest, and she rubbed her arms for warmth.

Several minutes had passed when her senses picked up on a familiar, intoxicating scent. A mixture of cardamom, cedar and musk. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Someone was behind her. Part of her refused to look behind, refused to even breathe. A finger cold as a bucket of ice grazed her left upper arm, making her shiver. Her heart's rhythm was lost with the constant pounding of another when a sudden heaviness pressed against her back. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest on her bare back.

"Dance with me," Riddle demanded, his voice low and deep, a hand extended and waiting patiently. His chin affectionately touched her hair.

"Tom," Hermione uttered, turning her head towards him. Her throat tightened involuntarily and she practically melted as he gazed at her; his eyes prying at her deepest and innermost secrets.

"Hermione," a penetrating voice called from inside the room. Her head turned towards the speaker, spotting Draco slinking into the balcony by its second entrance. Hermione revolved back to Tom, who stormed from the terrace in a fit of pique.

"What are you doing here?" Draco griped, frowning, "It's bloody freezing."

"That's something, coming from a Slytherin," Hermione retorted, rolling her eyes, perfectly aware that they were groomed for sub zero temperatures. Entering the room, she scanned amongst the moving bodies for Tom and noticed him flouncing to the exit.

"I need to leave," Hermione murmured quickly with a watchful eye on the doors closing.

"What?" Draco asked, confounded. Her outlandish behaviour made him jump to a number of far-fetched conclusions to the possible cause. It was the second time tonight she had blown him off. Bugger and blast! Instead of giving the kiss some tongue, he had to cock up the _one_ bleeding chance he had. And now she was avoiding him like the plague, thinking that he – Draco Malfoy – couldn't kiss. Absolutely ridiculous. He should have snogged her senseless in front of everyone. "Why?"

"Trust me on this one," Hermione said, but her voice lacked conviction. "Tell everyone I wasn't feeling well," she called out passively, fleeing the rowdy merrymaking.

At the end of the corridor, she caught a glimpse of a shred from his robes. At full pelt, she raced down the hall, retracing his footsteps. Before long, she came to a halt at a fork in the path. Attentive to every promising pin drop in both hallways, she strained to hear the faint patter of his footsteps. Finding both tranquil, her heart sank.

Reason and logic managed to catch up at last. Vivid recollections from her row with Tom destructively cascaded into her mind. All things that had come to pass in recent days made her doubt her rash, insensible actions. Two days had been spent dying of unmitigated humiliation from the fiend's unfounded whim that she might actually fancy him. In all likelihood, he was laughing himself silly at her girlish reaction on the terrace.

With arduous breathing, her hand clutched the side wall for support. Viktor Krum, Michael Corner, and Ron Weasley, they had all possessed admirable qualities, but there had always been a certain something missing. The irony that she had finally found it in Tom Riddle was beyond staggering, and to say it overwhelmed her did not do proper justice.

No longer could she deny that her heart missed a beat at every war of nerves between them. She was ashamed that the debauched, ruthless murderer of her parents had managed to electrify and bewitch every inch of her body and soul with his heated lips. Even the touch of his hand had thrilled her to no extent, sucking the very life from her. There was no denying that she lusted for him, but how could she possibly find any commendable quality worth loving in him?

Hermione groaned at her predicament, deeming it impossible that there were honourable intentions behind Tom's peculiar behaviour tonight. And yet, she still had her doubts. Well aware there were two options, she was certainly in a quandary about what to do next.

Return to the party or confront him.

Throwing caution to the wind, she gave a perceptive glance at the painting adorning the wall between the two passages.

"Pardon me," she called to its dwellers

"Checkmate!" exclaimed one of the wizards. His sulking opponent sent a rueful glare to the board.

The winner turned to Hermione, seeming mighty chipper, "Yes?"

"A tall boy passed by here. Do you know which way he went?" she asked politely.

"The head boy?" enquired the winner. She nodded. "Left corridor."

"Didn't seem to be in a good temper, did he, Bailey?" observed the other player.

"Naw, don't reckon he did," his friend concurred.

"Thanks!" Hermione cried, hurrying down the passageway until she came upon an array of moving staircases. She aimlessly kept her eyes peeled for any sign of Tom. Registering the raucous of owls and cages clattering, she rapidly noticed a dull light from the Owlery door being slightly ajar. After lumbering up the many stairs with her gown in tow, she sneaked a passing look into the room.

An expression of unadulterated malice, Tom was spewing curses in dudgeon, whirling his wand at all directions. The helpless owls hooted angrily, flying amok to avoid the shimmering flashes of light being sent their way.

"Don't," Hermione shrieked, evidently thrown off balance by his barbaric actions. Tom's head turned towards his unsolicited guest. The hem of her skirt dropped from her dainty hands as she rushed forward in a frenzy.

"Stop it!" she exclaimed, her antagonism towards him burgeoned as she viewed the aftermath of his inconceivable path of destruction. Feathers were afloat everywhere and several owls were immobile in their cages.

His shoulders were heaving up and down from laboured breathing, while his wand remained securely pointed at a cage. Tom was all-out incensed, making his animosity towards her earlier in the week seem like a tea party. With narrowed eyes, he stared at her vacantly through the dishevelled hair thrown over his left eye. She couldn't help but become enthralled by his dashing features, accentuated by the moonlight. The darkness magnified his allure, rendering him more handsome as he stood rigid with a quizzical stare and a knitted brow.

Her face softened, imploring him. "_Please_." She did a double take when he obliged, promptly lowering his wand. A few minutes elapsed while Tom and Hermione stood like statues, not saying a word and plainly observing one another.

The idyllic silence was broken by his incessant sniffing and haphazard shuffling as he wiped off the feathers entangled in his robes. Several of his sneezes were inter-laced with profanities. An owl near him howled, stridently voicing full approval of its assailant's dilemma. Tom glowered at it in severe loathing.

His hand twitched, and he elevated his wand to the cage, "_Avada_-"

In the twinkling of an eye, Hermione hurried to his side, forcing his arm down.

"Do you have no scruples about prying on the defenceless?" she panned him in disapproval. His eyes dropped to her hand on his arm.

"My apologies," he droned sarcastically, "I should have asked Devereux if he was available." She wrenched her hand away from him, burned by his words.

It took all of her composure to resist levitating a pile of owl feces to his face. Honestly, why had she even thought there was an ounce of good remaining in his coal-ridden heart?

At her horror-struck expression, he asked "_What_?" He gasped derisively. "How rude of me! To insult the boy wonder who is there for you through thick and thin. Mind if I ask the whereabouts of the other lovebird?"

"He isn't my 'lovebird'," Hermione responded in a deadpan voice, circling the Owlery to ensure none of the birds were too badly injured. "He is still at the party,"

"Trouble in paradise, so soon?" Tom said complacently, with a triumphant grin. Her head twisted sharply in his direction, sending her curls cutting through the air.

"No," Hermione shouted, marching towards him, "For some awfully mundane reason-" On the tip of her toes, she looked at him close up. "_I came _to_ dance _with_ you_."

She made a beeline for the exit but he beat her to it. Tom casually inclined against the door, shutting it with a resounding slam. He stared at her intensely.

Hermione glared with her wand elevated, muttering dangerously, "_Move_."

"I should like to inform you, Miss. De Lioncourt," he said in a patronizing manner, "Threatening another student with a wand is a severe offence."

"Don't you go acting all holier-than-thou," she hissed, wagging her wand at him.

"A foul mood is quite unsavoury on a woman," he condemned in a suave tone, assertively preventing her wand from further movement by coercing it downwards. Affronted, she slid her wand away from his.

His thumb forced the side of her lips upwards, "Do try and smile." She shook her head away from his touch. Pouting, he leaned in, and whispered, "The _poor_, _defenceless_ owls may very well think you don't enjoy their company."

In a fit, she spat, "You're such a lunatic."

"Fiery pet names," he remarked, examining her thoughtfully. "I should really find a fitting one for you." She jabbed her wand into his shoulder piercingly.

He glanced down at her wand, with a false expression of hurt. "That's hardly fair, is it?"

She took four steps back, maintaining a steady grip on her wand.

"_Stupefy_!" she exclaimed.

Tom easily deflected the spell, yawning, and saying, "How elementary."

"_Petrificus Totalus. Incarcerous. Confundo. Immobilius Corpus_," she murmured, watching as he deflected each with a trivial flick of his wand.

"Glad we're finally making headway, dearest," Tom said, pausing to reflect on his words, "_Dearest_? I like the ring to it." He faced her, "What do you think?"

She growled, "_Oppugno. Rictusempra. Impedimenta_." Tom remained at a standstill; unaffected and jaded, as though she had threatened him with a paper cut.

"You're such a tough nut to crack, de Lioncourt. I wonder," he said in a cavalier fashion, "what makes you tick?"

His face lit up, and he smirked. "Any residual scars from Sunday?"

Her hand flinched, sending him soaring across the room. He dropped to the ground with a loud thump. Arms crossed, she glanced at his dishevelled body, lying vulnerable, eyes closed.

"Don't you think for a minute that I'll fall for that," she cried out.

No response.

"Tom," she yelled through stifled anger.

No response.

"Tom?" she called out more weakly, still not inciting any reaction.

"Oh no," Hermione gasped, sprinting across the room, his name hot on her lips. In cold sweat, she fell to her knees, gripping his shoulders and shaking him with brisk force. "Wake up!" she chanted repetitively, one hand stroking his cheek in unremitting despair.

She jumped a mile out of her skin when his hand grasped hers, holding it safely to his jaw. One eyelid opened, glancing at her with his trademark smirk.

With a sympathetic and grim face, Tom asked, "Did that pluck at your heartstrings, love?"

Her face reddened and she whacked him hard on the chest. Forget strangling, she wanted to adorn the top of Hogwart's Christmas tree with his head. She clambered towards the door, absolutely cheesed off. Upon arriving, she opened it but a hand banged it shut.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," Tom chuckled, tilting her chin upwards with his finger, "You're cute as a button when you're all steamed up." Hermione appeared prepared to masticate his finger.

Aware that he was sailing close to the wind, Tom became serious. "Cheer up. If it helps get you a better night's rest, you really got me on that one."

"GOOD," Hermione snapped, "_Wish_ it was _harder_." Whipping around, she turned the door knob with all her might and pulled, rebelling against his hand which was keeping it closed.

"Tsk tsk, don't be so unkind," Tom reacted, "But let's get back to our previous conversation –" He released his hold on the door, causing her to fall backwards into his arms. "Before you decided to jump my bone." He gave her a crooked smile. She abruptly lurched forward and moved to the side, glaring at him precariously.

"I must say," Tom said, "I'm really quite honoured, my dear, that you would give me the _courtesy_ of dancing with you."

"Pardon my foolishness," she said, seething.

"Even more fascinating, however, is how you came all the way here to grace me with your presence considering I'm such a – how would you put it - _disreputable_ man."

"You're right!" she cried, throwing her hands in the air. "What was I thinking?" she yelled, scolding herself. "To believe there was _anything_ _pure_ left in that warped mind of yours. That you could have been dead earnest to give _me_, a Muggle_-_born, one compliment. One_ measly _compliment. You are _demeaning. Cold. Soulless. Unforgiving. Rude_ -"

"_Intelligent. Powerful. Ambitious_," his voice thundered. With every word, he took a step forward while she would move away, ridiculing each trait with a snort. He paused, adding, "_Divine_-"

"_Callous. Conceited_," she interjected, as she walked backwards into the balcony to retreat from the tyrannous being.

"_Admired. Respected. Cunning_." he asserted, steering her to the edge of the terrace. "_Heir_ of the great Salazar Slytherin." She gripped the banister dearly, sending the butterflies in her stomach into a mad flutter upon peering at the five stories of air lying below them. Taking one step closer, he entrapped her with both arms placed on either side of her. With bated breath, she resumed her insubordinate stare at his face which was teetering dangerously close to hers.

His hard chest pressed against her, provoking her to mumble, "_Hated_." He snatched one of her hands, ignoring her words.

"Devereux will _never_ complete you," he avowed, speaking softly into her ear. His warm lips skimmed across her jaw as he slowly murmured, "You will always find him –" Tom gazed at her, "_lacking_." He pressed his forehead against hers, impervious to her struggle.

"Get off me," she said crossly, but her punches were as futile as hitting steel.

"One dance, Hermione," he whispered gently, in a heartfelt tone. The elegant

elocution of her name tripping off his tongue instantly made her cease the tussle, becoming limp in his arms. His tone left her weak in the knees as she looked into his pleading eyes, emblazoned with ashen flecks. "_Give_ me _one_ dance."

After a slight hesitation, she held out her trembling hand aloft. Positioning his hand over her uplifted hand, his longer fingers gently converged with hers. They webbed up and down between her fingers, sending shivers up her spine. He entwined his fingers over her wrist, suspending it against his shoulder. His arms encircled around her small waist while she placed her other arm around his neck. Her body became frigid when he suddenly reached into his robes, removing his wand.

"If I really intended to hurt you-" Tom said, swirling his wand in the air before returning his gaze to her, "Don't you think I would have had my way by now?" She suppressed a grunt; giving him a conspicuous look that went hand in hand with her belief that he was as crooked as a dragon's hind leg.

A slow melodious tune filled the air, and his hand crept up her back, caressing her neck. Minutes slipped away before she settled down, enough to trust that she would remain unscathed. Her body relaxed at the unusual surge of comfort of his arms surrounding her, and the peculiar sense that no ill could possibly transpire from being with him.

More than an hour had passed when a loud chime resonated outside the Owlery. Hermione lifted her head from his shoulder; fixing her eyes on a far-off room in the Western wing. Her arms slipped away from his shoulders in realization that it was midnight.

"The party is over," Hermione remarked in a subdued voice, her arms winding together in nervousness. They had been dancing for over an hour, and she blushed from secretly knowing she likely would have danced longer if not for the blasted giant clock.

"It's my turn to patrol," he stated, watching her like a hawk. She nodded, and took one step away to alleviate the growing awkwardness from the intimacy of their positions.

"I should get going," Hermione muttered, walking back into the room and knowing well enough she did not have to peek behind to know he was following her. She glanced around the Owlery at the chaotic mess.

Tom did the same, saying, "I'll get rid of -"

"The evidence," Hermione interchanged.

"Yes," he responded, in moderate amusement, but expecting her to revert to her snippy self at any moment. Instead, her face turned towards him, giving a genuine warm smile.

"I'll have your head on a platter if I hear about one mysterious owl death," she warned him, her mouth in a hard line.

"You have my word," Tom sneered, his back relaxing against the wall. The lock of curls tickling her cheekbones caught his eye.

"_Not_ that it counts for anything," she laughed whole-heartedly. The delectable ring of her mirth keyed up his heart. "You're a Slytherin – in more ways than one."

"And you're prejudiced," he accused, suppressing a grin. His eyes wandered to her natural matte, pouty lips.

"Goodnight," Hermione said, grasping his forearm and pressing it. She placed a light kiss on Tom's cheek, whispering, "Thanks for the dance." With one last timid smile, she rushed out of the room, leaving him dazed and already suffering from withdrawal.

**Hey all! **

**Hope you're satisfied!! I even updated in less than two weeks!!!! I'd say that was 95% Tom-Hermione action! **

**- **Obviously Tom was not entirely impressed by Hermione kissing Draco, although it was seemingly quite chaste.

-Yes, I'm sure that animal cruelty does not make Tom more likeable, but we finally see a few moments of weakness from him.

- I always thought Hermione would be the type to see the good in everyone, Slytherin or not, and at least give them a second chance. I guess that means she is naïve at times (not that it's a bad thing!). Her peck at the end was only intended to be friendly, but Tom will take it to a whole other level, realizing that civility towards her could possibly translate into winning her affections (as seen in future chapters!!!)

**I don't know if this chapter has converted some of you Draco lovers. I doubt it… but it's just the beginning. Muahhaa. Let me know what you think! Good or bad.**

**Thanks to all my wonderful readers and reviewers! **

**CYUNME, Malfoys Love Weasleys**_(maybe it should be called Dramioniddle. I started writing most of the recent chapters this year after a huge break. It's usually around two weeks between updates)_, **drakeundone, Kimiko16, meeshell72, Tudor1, iloveapplejuice, Chelseabaabyox3, Lilipop10122, crazikido2, Ekaterina2324, f4vivian **_(I hope you haven't died since my last update)_**, sweet-tang-honney, AnimeMangaFreak, ANBU Allysa, limapickle**(_I really think Hermione & Draco are perfect for each other as well… I couldn't resist putting them together for some scenes even if she's supposed to land up with TR_)**, sarahr85(**_oh you just wait, you'll forgive Tom *wink*_**), She Isn't Here**_(yea, it wouldn't be right if he was sleeping with everyone)_** , passing-glance, JEN-SVU**

**- NOTE - **

**If anyone would be interested in helping beta-read or even for giving input on the plot for future chapters, let me know. **


	18. Meat Pies

**Note:** not beta edited for a faster update! Sorry if there are mistakes

**Chapter 18 – Meat Pies**

A sudden racket stirred Draco from his sleep. Propping himself on his elbows, he blinked hard, smacking his lips at the dryness in his mouth. His head was spinning as he became conscious of a sound behind his bed curtains. He moved about in his sheets, patting blindly underneath his pillow. Wand in hand, he waited. The curtains had barely slid open when he gripped the intruder by the arm, directing his wand at them.

"Ouch!" a female voice exclaimed. Recognizing Hermione in the moonlight, Draco released his tight grip.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, dazed.

"What's going on?" a drowsy voice called several beds away. In a mad rush, Draco lugged Hermione into his bed and pulled together the curtains to conceal her.

"It's just me," Draco replied, hastily muttering a silencing spell. He fluffed his pillows, removing any clumps with his fingers, and reclined against the bed frame. Letting out a soft whistle, he finally acknowledged that Hermione was barely clad in a long satin nightgown. The deep neckline had a ruffled tulle trim and the waist was cinched in with a peach ribbon tying in the back. She instantly attempted to cover herself by adjoining the front of her jacket.

"Knickers will do as attire the next time you come groping in the dark for me," he remarked.

Even in the dark, Hermione could sense him leering at her. She cursed herself for not dressing more appropriately before leaving. Draco Malfoy, always the charmer, she thought sarcastically. She sincerely hoped he couldn't see her blushing.

"Why are you still in your robes?" Hermione asked, observing his outfit from the party, now creased.

"Would you prefer me in the buff?" he responded.

"Must you always twist everything I say?" she hissed, jabbing him on the arm reproachfully.

"I was tired. I didn't feel like changing," Draco said in a monotonous voice, closing his eyes to soothe his headache. Hermione snorted.

"More like severely pissed," Hermione rebuked at the whisky stench on his breath. "How much did you drink?"

"Abraxas had some to spare," Draco responded, observing her hand with burning curiosity as she rummaged deep in the bag she was carrying. She pulled out a green vial.

"I wasn't aware you lead a double life, Granger," he commented, taking a sip of the potion, "Carrying around pick-me-up solutions for when you're sloshed."

"It's handy for studying late," Hermione informed him crossly, somewhat wound up at his implication. She snatched the empty vial back from him.

"Are you planning on telling me why you're here?" Draco asked, "Not that your company isn't agreeable, Granger, but I'm all tuckered out."

"I had a brilliant idea at the party," Hermione blurted with a devious grin. From the mere thought of it, her hands clutched his comforter.

"What?" he asked, sitting up. She soundlessly slipped away from the bed, making him growl. Keeping the sound of his footsteps to a minimum, he grudgingly left the comfort of his bed and caught up with her. He pondered what could have made her keen as mustard to come running to his bedside. His pupils dilated, hopeful that Hermione had decided to let down her hair and make wild, passionate love to him. "How did you get in here by the way?"

"Being bladdered does not make your daftness excusable," Hermione noted in a hushed whisper, as they left the Slytherin rooms. "I am Head Girl," she emphasized, ascending the staircase to the main floor with restless energy.

"Do tell me where we're heading at _2 _in the morning, if not the kitchens," Draco murmured, not at all enticed by this plan plucked randomly out of thin air.

"Oh shush Malfoy, we both know you're not so prim and proper," Hermione said, making a sharp turn and treading outside the castle.

"Are you completely off your trolley?" Draco asked, heaving his hair. While he may have never been part of the Golden Trio (thank heavens for that), he was confident the law-abiding head girl didn't break rules willy-nilly without exhaustive planning.

"I'm finding answers," Hermione said in an assured tone, ignoring Draco's unnecessary dramatics and hastening until they were bordering the Forbidden Forest. The tall, monstrous, imposing trees groaned with the wind.

"Oh no, you said _nothing_ about any jaunt in there," Draco said, frowning at her blithe disregard for danger.

"Awwnnh," Hermione whined, looking shrewdly at Draco, "Is Drakie wakie frightened?"

"We shouldn't enter without a plan," he said, "What do you intend on doing? Flying by the seat of your pants?"

"You sound like –," Hermione began saying.

"_You_," Draco finished, trying to knock some sense into her.

"Exactly," she said, overlooking the attack on her character, "We must think outside the box." Draco thwarted any further advancement from her by yanking her arm in the opposite direction.

Dragging her feet into the ground, she threatened him, "The moment we pass those doors, I'll scream my head off." With a devilish smile, she added, "Being benched for the Hufflepuff game wouldn't sit too well with you."

"You wouldn't," Draco muttered in consternation, stopping dead in his spot and looking at her with an incredulous expression.

"Oh, I would," Hermione said with all the resolve needed to deter his Quidditch hopes in a puff of smoke.

"Fine," he hissed, removing the cloak he had grabbed on his way out, and passing it to her. When she politely declined, he ordered, "Take it."

She donned the cloak, leaving him chilled to the bone and fraught at having the nicety to strike the right note with her. "If I die from hypothermia or get touched by any creature, I'll haunt you for the rest of eternity."

"Quit whining," she grumbled, whipping out her wand as a precaution prior to stepping into the pitch-black, murky forest.

Draco stood still, shouldered aside a soft-peeling birch tree, rubbing his forehead testily. "Why do I always fall for the nutters?" Withdrawing his wand, he darted to catch up with her before she could fade away into the thick throng of stately trees.

"What do you intend on finding? A souvenir for your friend, the stupid oaf in the hut?" Draco asked, chortling. His wand slashed in the air, hacking the cobwebbed, thorny bushes in his way. "I reckon he's seen it all." She threw him a dirty look, which was in his nature to ignore. "What do you suppose we'll do if we encounter those mammoth spiders I've heard about?"

"I doubt Aragog has mated yet," Hermione said, swapping at the pesky flies teeming over her head. "Poor Hagrid is still in Azkaban," she informed him, leaving him speculating how the latter was a logical explanation.

"Aragog?" Draco enunciated. He was unsure if he should be relieved or disconcerted from her being on a first-name basis with large, atrocious spiders. The swaying canopy of leaves obscured the starry sky, making their surroundings darker and darker by the minute. "And if there's a troll?"

"Comment on the weather," Hermione joked, shifting a drooping bough away from her face. He started to carp incoherently about Gryffindors, until he was whipped in the chest by a branch. Hearing his low whimper, she hid her triumphant smile.

"Well if done civilly – not that you know anything about politeness, I'm positive we could reason with him logically for our safe return," Hermione said, enjoying every second of his perturbed state. He was geared up to launch into another tirade of insults when she clamped her hand over his mouth, "You'll awaken every being here if you keep up with this rant."

He shut his mouth at once and remained tight-lipped as they struggled onward through the forest. Upon reaching a clearing, Draco nearly ran into her back when she halted abruptly.

"Don't say anything rude," she warned, "Or I'll happily let them carry you off like Umbridge." He blanched, realizing _who _she was talking about. On cue, several centaurs emerged from the bushes with arrows directed at them.

"You are trespassing," said the abrasive leader, approaching Hermione and Draco. "This is no place for humans."

"Must have made a wrong turn," Draco said, flashing his thirty-two pearly white teeth and tugging Hermione by the sleeve, "We'll be on our way out." His day was shaping out to be a disaster of epic proportions; both Hermione and the centaurs were being pig-headed and refusing to move. His mum had always claimed he'd be struck down by the killing curse, should he ever feel smitten for a muggle-born. While she may have been right about there being a penance, it was going to be delivered by half-breeds instead.

"Have you not seen who they are?" voiced a brazen centaur, emerging from the front line and shielding them from harm. Both students instantly recognized him as Firenze. He moved to Hermione, lifting her chin towards the moonlight for all centaurs to see. Several in the crowd shifted nervously at the sight of her face.

"No harm can come to those from the future," Firenze insisted, his voice authoritative and piercing. A few lowered their weapons, giving Hermione a mystified look. The rest hesitated, glancing at their leader, who signalled their weapons to be lowered.

In what oddly resembled respect, the leader gazed at Hermione. "The forest is not safe." Draco sniggered, giving Hermione an accusatory look. "I suggest you leave at once," he said, beginning to depart followed by his pack.

"Wait!" Hermione cried out, chasing after Firenze. Bedevilled by her madness, both of Draco's hands grabbed his hair. Clearly, she was trying to get them killed. Firenze turned to look upon Hermione, while his leader resolved to join his side.

"How do you know who we are?" Hermione asked. "You must know what we're here to do."

"It has already begun," the leader replied blankly, studying the stars.

"What has?" Hermione enquired, feeling like she was grasping at straws.

"The prophecy will be fulfilled in time, now you have found the other," Firenze replied, staring at Hermione. The mention of a 'prophecy' was nastier than a dung bomb.

"What prophecy?" Hermione asked with a sense of looming dread. For once, she could relate to Harry and the glooming sentiment of having one's fate sealed. "Found who?"

"The boy with the curse," the leader responded.

"Tom," Hermione muttered to herself. "You mean Tom Riddle, my equal?" The centaurs gave no response, while Draco merely gaped at her, clearly taken aback. "What does the prophecy say?"

"The sacrifice of life will be made before the end," Firenze said quietly.

"Crikes," Draco swore. "I don't suppose you could drop a hint as who it may be?"

"It is inevitable," the leader said all too frankly, clearly not perturbed from being the bearer of bad news. Hermione shuddered at the notion of either her or Draco dying. "I would advise you not to return here again. We do not have the answers you seek. You must find them on your own." The centaurs nodded at both students and wandered further into the forest. Hermione and Draco watched their forms retreating slowly into the shadows.

A disturbance in the bushes nearby made Draco's hair stand on end, and he tapped Hermione's shoulder warily, "We should leave." Hermione nodded passively, busy recapping the centaurs' words as they began leaving the forest.

Putting her thinking cap on, it was awhile before she spoke but when she did, it was with precision. "Dumbledore," she said, stopping and applying a gentle pressure to Draco's arm.

With a sigh, he took a step back and gazed at her, waiting for her to finish her sentence. "If you don't mind, I'd prefer to get as far as possible from here," Draco said, gesturing to the trees.

Hermione complained, "Good grief, you must make a rotten Death Eater."

Draco folded his arms over his chest. His jaw dropped and he gawked at her. "Don't you go making me out to be some cantankerous berk like Weasel." Highly unimpressed, she rolled her eyes. "I'll have you know that I am an exceptional-"

"Sub-par," she corrected.

"_Former_ Death Eater," Draco finished, on a higher note.

"Pardon me," Hermione said, "Draco Malfoy. Title, _Ex _Death Eater." She walked away, taking long strides whilst ridiculing him and pumping her fist in the air, "Facing danger head on! Running from centaurs and the shadows under his bed."

Draco halted immediately, his brow creased. "Are you mocking me, Granger?"

"Keep up, will you?" she criticized, stealing a glance at him over her shoulder.

"I'm beginning to think I've had a rather bad influence on you," Draco remarked, keeping in step with her, "Good heavens, what will Scar Head and Rags make out of it." She whacked him on the arm and gave a disapproving cluck of her tongue.

"Concentrate! _Dumbledore_," Hermione repeated with sound determination as though repetition would cause the old wally to drop from the heavens bearing answers.

"Right," Draco said, yawning, "What about him?"

"He sent us here knowing about the prophecy," she thought aloud. In a burst of excitement, she exclaimed, "That's what he was discussing with Dippet!" Her fingers enclosed tightly around his arm. He observed her with a quirked eyebrow. Hermione explained anxiously, "When Tom performed the spell, one of his memories showed him overhearing a conversation between Dumbledore and Dippet." Her face lighted up. "His misfortune, our opportunity."

"Glad you're accepting your inner Slytherin," Draco chortled.

Hermione ignored him, continuing in an avid voice, "They mentioned Tom's equal was at Hogwarts."

"Meaning Dumbledore might already know the prophecy," Draco concluded.

"Yes," she chirped with a huge grin, ecstatic they had finally made a huge step forward. She glanced at Draco, only to find him not equally satisfied. "You've known about this, haven't you?" He didn't respond and walked with his head lowered.

"Unbelievable," Hermione said, full of bitterness. It was her entitlement to know about a prophecy concerning her, even more so if it included Voldemort. Taking a deep breath, she tried to rationalize the logic behind the secrecy. Her voice was a hint more relaxed when she said to Draco, "I don't blame you."

He gave her a long sideway glance, saying, "I know. If it helps, I don't know the prophecy in its entirety."

"The unbreakable vow?" she asked. He gave a quick nod. They continued their trek in peace, throwing wary glances here and there until the castle came into sight.

"How did you give Tom the slip when leaving your room?" Draco asked.

"He may be inhumanely perfect, but I doubt he'd stay up at this ungodly hour," Hermione commented, "Villains need their rest as well"

"Says the innocent and naïve," Draco drawled, sounding as though he was an authoritative source on the topic. "World domination simply doesn't come at the snap of one's fingers."

"How selfish and unkind of me! To think I could effortlessly walk in," Hermione said, her voice spewing with sarcasm, "God forbid I interrupt his train of thought." she snickered, a smile sneaking its way onto her lips. "He might turn me into a meat pie and serve it at the Slytherin table tomorrow at lunch."

Draco's brow raised and he gave her a long scrutinizing look, "You really have a morbid sense of humour."

She laughed at his appalled face, "I reckoned it would be a winning attribute in a Slytherin's eyes. It's from Sweeney Todd."

Draco stared at Hermione, aghast, pointing to his chest, and emphasizing, "Pureblood."

She gave a loud snicker of derision. "I assumed you'd have an acquired taste in muggleborn tales considering you're a closet fan of muggleborn love songs." He glared at her, recalling that he had made his awareness of muggleborn music quite public.

On the defensive, he said, "They're half decent. I still prefer wizarding music." Taking notice of the ends of her smile reaching her ears, he warned her, "One word to your bosom buddies, and I'll do worse than a meat pie."

"Don't fret," she said, smirking, "Your larger than life ego is enough to keep your reputation in tact."

Looking at her closely, he noticed how their promenade had put the roses back into her cheeks, making her even more irresistible. Nearly doing a double turn, Draco wondered when he, God's gift to witches, had turned into such a bleeding pansy. This light and fuzzy sentimentality was worse than being under the Imperius Curse. Worst of all, it had him believing that it was only natural to feel this way, and no harm could befall him if he was happy as a pygmy puff. He jerked his head forward. No woman would have _him_ rolling and squeaking like those brainless puff balls.

"It would be safer to not return to your room tonight, or it may raise suspicion from Tom," he recommended.

"What do you suggest?" Hermione asked.

"Sleep in the Slytherin rooms," Draco advised.

"Where?"

"In my bed," he responded, perfectly nonchalant.

"In your bed," Hermione stressed.

"Yes. In. My. Bed,"" Draco repeated, "Trust me, I take my hosting responsibilities very seriously." Taking tremendous pride in his sexual etiquette, he winked at her. "I ensure all guests are satisfied before serving myself."

Hermione exclaimed through her hyena laugh, "Not even a ten foot pole between us would be enough. There's not the fattest chance I'd-"

With a small wave of his hand, he said in complete confidence, "I suggest we reconvene at my bed. I am more than certain you'll warm up to the idea."

Thankful they were feet away from the castle's doors, Hermione sneered, "The only warmth will be my foot up your arse." She stomped towards the doors, muttering, "Besides, I had no intention of returning to my room."

"You didn't?" Draco asked, optimistic from the promise in her words.

"Nor to your bed," Hermione clarified, pricking his bubble.

"Then where-," he began asking when a hand muffled his voice.

"Put a sock in it," Hermione whispered, "Or Abaddon will make pies of us both." He watched her dash into the castle. Trailing behind her, he followed her to the Room of Requirements. The room they entered was severely different from their meetings. Sparsely furnished with a bed and a nightstand, it was unbearable for Draco who had lived his entire life high on the hog.

"Why did you follow?" Hermione asked through gritted teeth.

"I couldn't bear spending a night away from you, love," Draco purred, falling spread eagle onto the room's bed, relieved that their mission had gone off without a hitch.

Hermione cleared her throat loudly.

"What?" Draco said, glancing at her oddly.

"Get your shoes off my bed!" she demanded, pushing off his legs.

He groaned, kicking off his shoes lazily and stacking the pillows behind his back. Hermione seated herself at the edge of the bed, her back perfectly straight as she observed him.

"We need to be more alert," she said, trying to turn the conversation to the urgent matters at hand. "It could be either of us." She glanced at Draco, half expecting him to be doing something entirely useless like sleeping, but instead found him staring at her alertly.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he muttered, giving her a glazed look. When she did not cease looking at him, he leaned forward stressing the words, "I won't." After a momentary silence, he asked, "On another note, why is it you're avoiding the almighty prince of darkness? Don't think I didn't see you chasing him out the door." Truth be told, he hadn't seen a scrap. She glanced away quickly, and he chalked up her reaction to his belief she had been with Tom.

Knocked for six that he had diddled out her whereabouts after the party, he reprimanded her, "Mess with a Hebridean Black and you'll get fire." Her head was persistently stuck in the stand when it came to Tom Riddle; even now she was gazing at him like a deer caught in the headlights. "For goodness' sake, you're all coloured up."

"Stop talking through your hat," she said snidely, opting to stretch the truth, "We needed to schedule a meeting for the Christmas ball." She did not have the faintest clue why she was lying, but even she was at a loss to understand her actions that night. So she doled out the flawless picture of innocence, asserting, "I'm allowed one free night away from him, am I not?"

At his curt nod, she gave herself a pat on the back for succeeding in one white lie and was too busy with her own thoughts to notice the wheels turning in Draco's head. She was unable to maintain her straight face when he put forth his idea.

"We should kill him," he said bluntly.

Recovering from the shock of his words, she only managed to articulate the first words that came to mind, "Killing is not the solution."

"Why not?" he asked heatedly, "He doesn't deserve to live after all he has done."

"Two wrongs don't make a right," she said, desperately trying to change his mind.

"You can't simply paper the cracks and count on him to become nice as pie," he responded.

She retorted, "You have no right to take away his life."

"Yet he can take away yours?" he cried out, infuriated. "Or mine?" He stood up, clenching his fists. "How much are you willing to risk before you do what is right?"

"We were not sent to murder him," Hermione barked at Draco, watching as he walked forward till he was standing in front, staring down at her with one hand clasped around the bed's pole. "He could change. There is time."

"A leopard cannot change its sports," Draco said.

"You've proven otherwise," she argued.

"Granger, as much as you like seeing the good in others and keeping your nose clean, I'm calling a spade a spade. You've seen what he is capable of at our age," he snapped, "What if I hadn't been there to save you?"

"And I've thanked you," she said irately, "But fighting fire with fire is too dangerous. The future could cease to exist the moment we change it. Who knows what could happen! Another dark lord - "

"Even now you take up for him," Draco spat, "Give you the dagger, and you'll kill him with kindness." Hermione heart sank in guilt at the look of reproach on his face. "I'll do it," he said.

"You don't have it in you to kill," she stated, "Even if it's Tom Riddle." He gazed at her, his breathing laboured.

"Clearly, you don't know me too well," Draco said, his voice lacking any warmth. His eyes did not falter from hers. Gazing into the lifeless, silver depths of his eyes, she was chilled. There were skeletons in his closet he would never disclose to her, and she had to accept this.

"Then you are no better than him," she uttered in nothing more than a whisper, a slight tone of disappointment.

"I'd kill him," he resolved. Without a hint of hesitation, his formerly vacant voice was replaced by one sated with longing. "_For you_." She scrambled from her seat, and paced around the room. Her heart began racing, clinging to his words.

Hermione said weakly, "You don't mean it."

"The Order has sent you with no direction," he said, taking a step towards her as he attempted to drive his point home, "The words of the prophecy will not matter as long as you are Tom Riddle's equal. The more he gets, the more he'll want. He will take advantage of you to heighten his powers."

Standing near her, he took her hand into his and pressed it gently. "You aren't safe while he lives."

"No," Hermione said firmly, shaking her head, "I won't –" Draco forced his lips onto hers; kissing her thoroughly. He put everything into the kiss. Expressing what he could not speak. Pulling her closer, he cupped her cheek and left her swooning at the intensity of the kiss. He slowly released his lips, allowing them to linger against hers while listening to her slow and steady pant. His fingertips brushed her lips and he gazed into her eyes, searching for an answer. Draco had a sinking feeling it would not go as he wanted.

Hermione simply stared at him, visibly shocked. Gradually collapsing onto the bed, she regained control of her body. Speaking softly, she said, "Draco, I don't-"

"You kissed me at the party." He stood back, in mixed disbelief and anger.

"As a friend," she explained, "I would have done the same to Harry or Ron." Draco was not one to wear his heart on his sleeve, and his outburst was proof enough that he was not pulling her leg.

"On the lips?" he demanded. Tongue-tied, Hermione regretted kissing him earlier. She was horrified about not recognizing his affections sooner, and felt herself shrinking under his perpetual glare.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said genuinely. She bit her lip nervously, realizing how harsh and unforgiving her response sounded when he insisted she could sleep in his bed. A ten feet pole! She should have been wiser at picking her words. Feeling at fault, Hermione could not bear the turmoil in his appearance as he paced the room. No words could pour oil on these troubled waters.

"I don't need your pity," Draco said, treading heavily towards the door. He did not have the fortitude to be rejected, particularly after assuming her kiss had put him on the fast track.

Hermione quelled to stop him from leaving. Withstanding his forceful struggle to the best of her ability, she grabbed his arm and held on to it.

"Abaddon will catch you," Hermione advised, "Don't be such a fool." At the absurdity of her final statement, he scoffed and glared at her hand on his arm. He already felt like one.

"Stay," she pleaded.

He recoiled from her, "_Accio_ pillow." Begrudged and clutching the pillow, he hurled it down before sprawling across the floor, facing the wall. Hermione sighed, placing a blanket lightly at his feet. She turned off the lights in the room with a flick of her wand.

Returning to her bed, she muttered, "Goodnight." When he didn't respond, she pulled the covers over her head.

For the rest of the night, Hermione couldn't get a wink of sleep. Tossing and turning, she fretted over Draco's avowal to kill Riddle. Only the reminder of the disdain etched into his face prevented her from waking him, and begging not to strive ahead with his plans. Hopeful it was no more than Draco trying to show his mettle,she forced herself to believe actions spoke louder than words. That being said, she had a hunch this was one tiff they would not recover from so quickly. All civility fostered in recent weeks would be to hell and gone once Draco discovered her interest in Tom was culminating into more than a trivial crush.

At the crack of dawn, a disgruntled Hermione marched towards the Head rooms, wrought up from last night's quarrel. Barely an hour into her sleep, he had rudely reawakened her by storming out of the room and slamming the door. She had mucked up royally, and would have to take the consequences in stride.

She entered the common room and found her despotic roommate sitting in his usual black leather arm chair. Riddle watched her with narrowed eyes; his steepled long bone-white fingers reached his chin in contemplation. From the dark rings under his eyes, he certainly had been burning the midnight oil studying or scheming. Most likely the latter, she presumed.

"Long night?" she asked, her voice faltering as his glare refused to lift off her even a bit. She was quite convinced his truculent behaviour towards her had sadly resumed. He approached with folded arms, his eyes rampant with questions.

"Fine," Hermione said, frustrated when he did not bother to reply, "Why don't we skip the banal small talk." Perplexed, her eyes raised questionably when he proceeded to poke his wand at the cloak she carried.

The tip of his wand hoisted the snake clasp. "_Slytherin_," he said, the word dripping with venom. With fastidious displeasure, his eyes strayed to the mud-spattered extremities of her nightgown, partially covered with chips of wood.

"A promenade with Devereux past curfew," Tom assumed in a glacial tone. Hermione kicked herself mentally for not having tidied her gown prior to entering. Ironically, she had been too lost in thought reflecting on the man standing before her, and the other who had kissed her against her will.

"I noticed Devereux earlier," Tom said in a tone bordering on rage, walking to a table and shuffling his parchments. "Odd isn't it? He was rushing _towards_ the Slytherin rooms."

The third degree. Hermione had not anticipated anything less from the head boy, but quite frankly she was not in the mood for the Spanish Inquisition.

"_Yes_," she snapped in her state of delirium, throwing her hands up in defeat, "I was frolicking in the woods with Draco." The sheets in his hand fell limp on the table. His head swerved in her direction and his eyes flamed with vengeance. She would later wonder what in the devil's name had inspired her to not care one whit about the latent impact of this declaration on his anger. Despite feeling herself burning to a cinder under his stare, she asked, "What other piquant details of my life do you care to know?"

Lacking good judgment on the proper reaction to this morsel of information, Tom picked up a stack of textbooks from the table, digging his fingertips into their hinges and fore edges. One thing was certain; he did not want to physically hurt her. Exhaling loudly, he dropped the books back onto the table with a resonant thump.

"You've _chosen_ him?" he spat. He stared fixedly at the table, feeling a sense of incredulity, fury and pain at the unprecedented calamity of his cards not being played in his favour. Turning towards the culprit of his heartache, he hissed, "Stupid girl."

"What I do is none of your concern," she retorted.

"_Everything_ you do _concerns_ me," he mumbled in a deadly tone, "Your folly included."

"How can you expect me to feel for you? You're incapable of trusting others and haven't shown the slightest inclination you could possibly love any being besides yourself."

"And so you've given yourself to Devereux?" Tom said, "I figured you'd be more prudent, de Lioncourt. Never the rose without the prick."

"I do not belong to anyone," she informed him.

In a scream of primal fury, he bellowed, "You _spent_ the _night_ with _him_." He trembled with anger, his eyes bulging and his jaw clamped together tightly. The bookcases behind him vibrated. Rare as it was to hear him yell, she wasn't sure what was more shocking; the grandeur of his anger or the fact that she was the cause.

"Unsubstantiated assumptions," Hermione responded. "He kissed me," she blurted, making him cringe, "And he ended up sleeping on the floor the entire night. I trust you're not too thick to put two and two together." His brow rose at her sudden willingness to divulge these intricacies after a long, restless night which had caused him such grief. Little by little, a mixture of relief and pride overcame his expression.

Lifting her chin up, Hermione stomped to her room, but was caught off balance when Tom cut in. He shoved a weightless, velvet sachet into her hands, muttering, "You misplaced this the other day." Without another word, he swiftly left.

Entering her room, she slammed the door behind her. At long last, she was permitted to sink head first into her despair. Abandoning herself to the comfort of her bed, she sprawled her body along the snug duvet, letting out a long, feral groan.

She buried her head into the pillows, hiding her face in shame and blaming the gods of love for her circumstances. For all her years at Hogwarts, she had yearned for a love akin to Ginny and Harry. She might be overly studious, but even she could not resist fantasies of true love. Coming to the past, she had not imagined it would pour when it rained, particularly when least desired. Feeling susceptible to this unfamiliar territory, rather than handling it maturely, her emotions were under siege. If anyone had told her several months in advance that Draco Malfoy and Tom Riddle would develop a soft spot for her, she would have thought they were off their rocker.

Hermione was at crossroads, and yet it was difficult to accept how she was leaning towards Tom, the greater of two evils, rather than Draco, She very well knew it was better the devil she knew than the devil she didn't, and so she very much wanted to find it in herself to return Draco's feelings.

Hermione peered over her back at the package Tom had handed her. Her arm stretched over her back to grab it and pulled the drawstring of the sachet. She retrieved the lone item inside and all thoughts of Draco were instantly driven out of her mind upon recognizing the hair band lost the night Tom attacked her. Having searched the classroom from top to bottom, she had given up all hope of recovering the precious gift bestowed by her mother following her acceptance into Hogwarts.

Her fingertips glided over the ornate hair band and she found herself more muddled than ever. She was fairly certain it had been broken. Out of nowhere an idea struck her and hot as Hades, it fell from her hands.

Tom had fixed it for her. He had returned that night. For the second time in the same night, Hermione found herself contemplating whether Tom Riddle was indeed capable of feeling.

Guilt.

**Sorry for the wait! I got a job offer the day after posting the last chapter. I was supposed to move several thousand miles a few days ago, but instead I've had 2 weeks of ups and downs. I'm probably leaving soon (fingers crossed). I don't know when I'll be able to post next. It's a busy time but I'll do my best. I'm not abandoning the fic! **

**It was hard writing this chapter. I think I've read it so many times that I hate it. Lol. Minus the last part with Tom. Hope you enjoyed it! **

**It's great to hear about which moments you liked best. Thanks for reading and those who reviewed!**

**Blue Wonderland **_(thanks for the ideas!)_**, ckatherine, RedCloudWitch **_(I don't have any plans on Hermione meeting someone from the Potter family so far. In terms of their actions affecting the future, that would be too much to reveal heheh)_**, AnimeMangaFreak, XellamyBB **_(yea, I also find it hard to keep track of all the stories I read!! I have to reread this one to remember what I'm writing)_**, meeshell72, michelada89**_(now that they're fighting, Tom has a chance to make his move so don't worry, there's more Tom coming up)_**, ravenm721, seriana14 **_(Draco better start getting on her good side if he wants to take her to the ball)_**, missmeliss09, crazikido2, nicole317, JEN-SVU, Karleen, Right or Ryn, seduced by moonlight, psalmofsummer **_(Hermione is one of those girls who is clueless about how she makes a guy feel, and luckily this means juicer scenes)_**, She Isn't Here, sweet-tang-honney, iloveebfanfics, Malfoys Love **_**Weasleys **__(lol at your review, Draco had more than 4 lines this time. And a kiss!)_**, lima, Enchanting Breeze, Passing-Glance **_(there are many more plot bunnies ahead)_,** Chelseabaabyox3**


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